"Do your tattoos mean something?"
Honestly, I hadn't noticed the woman's tattoos, so enrapt have I been by the olio and quantity of food she's purchasing. Now, with her arm extended to use the debit/credit card machine, they are impossible to overlook. Gray bands on each wrist, five inches wide, the art work in black, no color. On one wrist are symbols resembling Asian lettering. She points to that wrist and says,
"Yes, they do. They're Chinese words that mean," she touches each one and says:
Faith Trust Life Endure Daughter
The clerk looks impressed and says,
"Oh! That is soooo cool! It must've really hurt, huh?"
(I have an unkind thought just then, the sort that if uttered would in no way suggest I believe that remark to be brilliant. It is one of those moments in life, and I've had many, when I silently intone, "Polly, this is an opportunity to practice your patience skills." I simply was not meant to enter the grocery store at 3:10 and exit at 3:14 with my sole purchase. No. It was to take four times longer than that. Accept it. Grrrrrrrrrrr)
Customer #1's other wrist sports a kaleidoscopic pattern with the design repeated all the way around. It looks something like this:
The last package of chicken is finally bagged, only the sour cream left to go, when the curious clerk perkily asks,
"Are you going to get more tattoos?"
"Definitely," spouts Customer #1 and proceeds to enumerate the other tattoos she wants and where she wants them.
(Really. I am not making this up. If you don't believe me I'll see if I can't track down Customer #3, get her to vouch for me.)
The conveyor belt is now totally empty. I plunk down the rather tepid carton of milk I've been holding for twelve minutes (it's seemed soooo much longer than that) and advance forward in such a way as to suggest to Customer #1 that if she doesn't stop talking about her body art post haste and wheel her grocery cart full of Daily Specials out of the store NOW, I will be exceedingly delighted to do it for her. She stands her ground and gives me a "what do you want?" look while replying to the clerk,
"I'm addicted to tattoos."
And here is where this entire post has been leading. I know of many, many forms of addiction, but this is the first time I'd heard of a tattoo addiction.
If the grocery clerk decides to get a tattoo, I wonder what it will be. What do you think?