Tyler Baltierra Is Breaking Up With His “Carly” Tattoo (And Possibly His Past Self)

When you realize your teenage chest tattoo didn’t age like fine wine—more like a Monster Energy drink left in the sun

Once upon a time, before the MTV checks, before the kale chips and poetry, Tyler Baltierra was just a Michigan teenager with a Sharpie-level commitment to his feelings. It was 2009. “Teen Mom” was barely a cultural phenomenon yet, and Tyler—boyfriend to Catelynn Lowell—was still trying to prove that love could survive adoption, MTV contracts, and the occasional misguided tattoo.

That tattoo was of course the infamous “Carly” piece stretched across his chest, forever reminding him (and the rest of us) that nothing says emotional stability like etching your biological child’s name across your pec at seventeen.

Fast forward fifteen years, and apparently, that level of sentimentality doesn’t age well. Tyler revealed this week that he’s having the tattoo removed. Gone. Lasered into oblivion like a bad Myspace quote.

“It was my first tattoo, and honestly, I hate it,” he told fans during a livestream, casually blowing up fifteen years of fandom nostalgia in one sentence.

He didn’t say this while crying, by the way. He said it like someone realizing the tribal tattoo phase was a collective fever dream.

From Symbol of Love to “Why Did I Do This?”

The internet immediately did what it always does: spiral. Some assumed it meant he and Catelynn had fallen out with Carly’s adoptive parents again. Others thought it was a metaphor for “moving on.” But Tyler, in his newly Zen dad era, clarified that it’s not that deep. He’s just over the tattoo.

The man has been on a self-improvement tour lately—therapy, fitness, mindfulness, more gym selfies than an entire influencer cohort—and the tattoo no longer fits the aesthetic. It’s like trying to wear an Ed Hardy tee to a yoga retreat.

“It’s not about Carly. It’s about the design,” he said, which feels like the tattoo version of “It’s not you, it’s me.”

He’s reportedly replacing it with something smaller on his “family arm,” the sleeve that features all his kids’ names and footprints. A mature move, sure, but one that feels suspiciously like when someone deletes all their old Facebook albums after a breakup.

The Psychology of a Tattoo Erasure

Let’s be honest: if you’ve been on Teen Mom since the Obama administration, you’re probably tired of seeing your own life as permanent ink. Tyler’s tattoo wasn’t just a tribute to Carly; it was a symbol of who he was back then. Emotional. Impulsive. A teenager on MTV trying to prove he was different from all the other reality show boyfriends who eventually sold detox teas.

It’s not surprising that he wants to scrub it clean. This isn’t rebellion—it’s revision. Tyler’s rebranding from “baby daddy in chaos” to “philosophical gym poet.” The tattoo doesn’t fit the feed anymore.

What’s wild is how much we project onto it. Fans have spent over a decade turning that tattoo into shorthand for the entire adoption storyline. But for Tyler, it’s just ink. Badly aged, overexposed ink.

A History of Regret, MTV Edition

This is hardly the first Teen Mom tattoo disaster. The cast has a long and messy history with permanent decisions. Remember Amber Portwood’s “Leah” tattoo covering her entire stomach? Or Jenelle Evans’ habit of tattooing men who later ended up in police reports? The franchise is basically a masterclass in body art regret.

But Tyler’s regret feels more symbolic. It’s not drama-fueled. It’s quiet, adult, almost boring—like realizing you don’t actually like your own handwriting. Which, to be fair, might be personal growth, but personal growth doesn’t trend as easily as meltdowns.

Fans React: Half Empathy, Half Judgment

Fans online split into two camps. One group applauded the move: “Good for him, he’s evolving.” The other side saw it as emotional blasphemy. “How could he erase his daughter’s name?” they asked, as though a tattoo removal appointment equates to emotional abandonment.

To those fans: you realize he still talks about Carly, right? He didn’t throw her photo album into a bonfire. He just doesn’t want her name in 2009 font above his sternum anymore.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Teen Mom alumni are probably watching this unfold while side-hustling on OnlyFans, wondering if laser tattoo removal is deductible as “personal branding.”

Tyler 2.0: The Reformed Reality Star

In recent years, Tyler’s become the franchise’s rarest species: a stable adult. He and Catelynn have weathered multiple seasons, multiple therapy arcs, and at least one podcast launch. They post about positive co-parenting and self-growth now. Which, for this crowd, is practically avant-garde.

His decision to remove the tattoo fits perfectly into that narrative. It’s tidy. It’s healing. It’s the kind of storyline MTV ignores because there’s no screaming, no parking-lot confrontation, and no one throwing an iPhone.

Still, there’s something meta about it. Watching Tyler laser away that tattoo feels like watching the Teen Mom era itself fade. The show that started with babies and chaos is now middle-aged. Everyone’s tired, sensible, and paying off court fees or gym memberships.

The Tattoo That Launched a Thousand Think Pieces

The Carly tattoo used to be emotional shorthand for the show’s whole premise—what happens when teenagers make adult decisions. It was proof of Tyler’s sincerity, his devotion, his willingness to wear heartbreak on his skin. Now, it’s just another thing he’s outgrown.

If you want to read too much into it (and this is the internet, so we do), it’s a commentary on time. The kid who once believed love was forever now believes in self-editing. The tattoo didn’t fail him; it just stopped being relevant.

And really, that’s the secret tragedy of all reality stars. They’re trapped inside the version of themselves that made the best TV. The second they evolve, fans accuse them of betrayal.

The Final Laser Session

Tyler hasn’t shared the final before-and-after yet, though it’s safe to assume it’ll be posted on Instagram, probably next to an inspirational caption about “letting go of the past to make room for new beginnings.” There might even be a quote graphic. There’s always a quote graphic.

By then, the chest will be clean, the old tattoo gone, and the fandom divided between those who think it’s emotional growth and those who think it’s emotional vandalism.

Either way, it’s the most Teen Mom plot twist imaginable—something deeply personal turned into public spectacle. Only now, instead of chaos, there’s laser precision.