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I have escaped a scourge of Valentine’s Day that I had feared might stain my life.
No one in my family received a “tattoo Valentine,” and I am forever grateful that their precious hides were spared.
Now, I know those boxes I saw among the kids’ cards at a couple of stores this past weekend didn’t include needles and ink, but they did carry with them, I fear, an impression on delicate minds that was equally dangerous and potentially damaging.
Tattoos for Valentine’s Day is the last thing I would call loving and romantic.
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