When I was 14 or 15, my parent forced me into my first tattoo. I was super gung ho about it, as any new teen would be, and eagerly accepted anything that would be tattooed on me. It ended up being some flash from the wall that my mom had pointed to.
I remember going to bed that night and I started crying. I cried because after all the adrenaline and "this is so cool" thoughts wore off, I thought about how it's there forever and it wasn't even something I necessarily picked myself. Yeah I wanted a body mod and yeah I was stoked as shit to have a parent endorse it, but that gut feeling of "this isn't what I want..." crept up on me when I was alone in my bedroom.
I can't help but relate that experience to these kids who are getting surgeries and drugs. Of course they're going to be fucking pumped while their brain is biologically wired to be Impulsive. Of course having a parent endorse it is going to make them think that it's the right decision.
I wonder how many of them spend the first night alone, either after surgery or when they finally feel the effects of hormones, and just feel regret.
I can get my tattoo covered but they can't reverse the damage that they had done while an adult supported their pubescent whims