Mine Was Free

I have my hair blondied at a spunky little salon called Pink where the foxy stylists don unique ensembles I could never wear with a straight face. Two male employees cruise around the room sweeping detached strands and shampooing egos. One of the hairdressers has an interesting collection of tattoos on various parts of her body (and these are the ones I can see). What caught my eye one day were her milky white shapely legs as they flashed in the mirror in front of me. Stacked on jet black heels, they carried her tall frame easily across the room. Much to my surprise, I noticed on the backs of her calves were two aqua blue lightening bolts, one on each leg. They seemed perfectly at home there. Her artwork led to a conversation with my stylist about the tattoos hidden behind her ears. I wasn’t about to leave the premises until I knew what they were and why they were there. Here’s what she told us…

When she was a little girl her grandmother used to nuzzle and kiss her behind the ears. She would nuzzle one side and say, “Oh, you taste as sweet as sugar!” and on the other side she would say, “Oh, you taste as sour as a pickle!” As a tribute to her grandmother, she had a pickle tattooed behind one ear and a packet of sugar behind the other. I thought that was a pretty damn good tattoo story.

I have a tattoo on the big toe of my left foot, something I would hide from my grandmother with a giant Band-Aid made for, say, a removed limb. Many moons ago, it looked like a collection of flowers. Now it just looks like a misshapen bruised or severe frostbite. I wish I had a nice little story to go with my bastard tat but the simple fact of the matter is it was free. Sometimes free isn’t such a good thing.