WHOOZ TATTOOZ

 

Decades ago, outside my previous home, I stood with my father as we chatted with our yard man. I noticed a huge portrait of a woman’s face tattooed on his upper arm. The name WANDA was underneath.

“That must be your wife!” I exclaimed, pointing.

“No,” he replied, “my wife’s name is Emma. Wanda is someone I used to know.”

Wanda apparently made quite an impression on him, -- also a lasting one!

Silently, I wondered how Emma felt about Wanda. I’m sure there was an interesting story connected to her, but it wasn’t my business to pry.

As we walked away, my father whispered to me, “His wife is blind.”

“Well, that’s convenient,” I replied, “I wonder how long it took him to find a blind woman to marry.”

Dad chucked.

Personally, I’ve never had a desire for a tattoo. It’s tantamount to wearing the same outfit every day. Taste, like everything else, changes over time.

But of course, there’s cosmetic tattooing! I’ve had my lips done several times only to watch it fade significantly in mere months. This process needs to be redone completely. Each time the price hiked, but my income didn’t, so I stopped.

At my father’s memorial service in 2001 I noticed the aging spouse of a relative had her eyebrows recently tattooed, they were thick and dark, unlike when she was younger. I said nothing, but this woman sure looked spooky!

And I once dated a man whose own name was tattooed in large letters on his bicep. He explained that he liked his name. Well, I like my name, too! But you don’t see me wearing a necklace displaying it in big letters!

I took this as a red flag, which later proved to be correct. In retrospect, I’m surprised the guy didn’t have a red heart tattooed around it.

Tattoos can be artistically beautiful. But I’d rather sport the designs on a T-shirt rather than upon my body.