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On his Sirius Satellite Radio (NASDAQ: SIRI) show one morning, Howard Stern hypothesized that a vague loss of direction or sense of hopelessness is often the backdrop for someone getting a tattoo who wouldn't ordinarily have done so. (The shock jock isn't judging; he has at least two of his own.)

His theory rang a bit familiar ... when I was 26 (old enough to know better), I got some "ink" of my own. Two of my best friends were about to move away, my parents had recently relocated from our mutual hometown, and my boyfriend had unceremoniously ended our relationship. At the time, I had my lower back branded with the orange-and-blue "V" and sabers that trademark the University of Virginia, my alma mater. I did so while repeating three mantras I considered to be quite wise at the time.

First, my tattoo of choice wasn't a capricious decision ... I will always be a UVa alum, and I will remain proud of that fact. Secondly, while larger than I wanted (the artist talked me into a bigger size, noting that it would be "framed by my entire body" -- famous last words), it is in a spot not normally visible in the workplace or in a cocktail dress. Finally, as I flippantly told my friends and my displeased elder relatives, "When I'm 60 and ready to be rid of this thing, they'll have technology where I can just wipe it off, no problem."