A Thing

Hi.

I ended up only blogging once here. Is that wasteful? Yes.

see my many other blogs: birdonbushwick.blogspot.com

love.
J

Love the Placement

This morning, at the gym, a woman came up to me to discuss the placement of my tattoo. Why this was of interest to her, I don't know, but it was and she wanted to talk about it at length. I just wanted to put my bra on and get as far away from her as possible. My tattoo is small. You'd have to have very good eyesight to see it from across a room.

"How did you decide to put it there?" she asked.

I almost told her the truth: the Tattoo "artist" - a guy named Jon - just plonked it any old place and got to work (I think he was late for a parole hearing or something), but instead I said something like, "Oh, it just seemed right."

I thought that would be the end of it, but she followed me around for the next five minutes yapping on and on about her own tattoos. Even while I was putting on my make-up and doing my hair, there she was haunting me like a yammering, tattoo-fixated ghost.

If she had left me alone after the initial conversation, it would have been fine, but she crossed that line into intrusiveness.

My tattoo is very small and tame. It doesn't grant me membership in some "I have a tattoo and I want to talk to you about it" community of the tattooed. I don't ride around on a Hog and drink beer. I'm actually rather prim and propper. I'm also a collosal geek. I just happen to have a tattoo of a flower in the general neighborhood of my left breast. It could easily have been a tattoo of Darth Vader on my ass. At the time, I could have gone either way.