Sometimes, if I'm feeling perky and yet don't have anything pressing to do, I drive the Sober Husband to work (this saves him about twenty minutes from his usual two bus routine). Yesterday after dropping him off, I stopped for gas. The man at the next pump called over, "I like your tattoos." I thanked him, and a conversation sprung up about them. He turned out to be from Tonga originally and had a tattoo on his ankle done the traditional way, with a fishbone dipped in ink. It was a great tattoo.
This man, who was very good-looking at probably a decade younger than me, asked me which was my first tattoo, did they mean anything, where did I get them, etc... During this conversation I said I'd have a lot more tattoos if my husband didn't hate them so much. He was disbelieving. "He hates them?"
"Oh, yeah, that's why I don't have more. I'd have a lot more otherwise. After I got this one (holding out my right forearm), he didn't talk to me for days."
My new acquaintance shook his head. "He's crazy." He looked me over. "The guy's CRAZY."
3 comments:
Ever watch the show Taboo, on the Natgeo channel? One show's topic was about Tattoo's. Some cultures are serious about their tattoos. For instance, in Thailand Buddhist monks give men tattoos of animals and it's believed that the animals spirit is channeled thru the tattoo. In a small area of the polynesian islands (IDK which one), a girl's rite of passage is getting facial tattoo. An elder village woman of the girl's choosing gives it to her. Afterwards, she is considered a woman, brave and beatiful because of her tattoo.
I saw that episode of Taboo. I'm stoked, my friend is taking me on Monday to talk to the guy who is doing her sleeve. Two and a half years of unfulfilled ink-lust is about to be released!!
You should make the SH get a tattoo.
Because you make me laugh . . . I left you bloggy love at the house.
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