Friday, August 22, 2008

Mommy Was Here

Earlier this week, I took two of the kids out to lunch at Inn-n-Out. We looove the burgers there, even if we have to wait in line for an hour at 3 in the afternoon and have nothing to pair with it except those rubbery fries. So we're just sitting there munching away with everyone else when in walks her. She would be a young, tall, and attractive woman wearing a tank top. Everyone, I mean everyone, stopped to look at her. Some just openly gawked at her. Others, like me, pretended not to stare at her. She wasn't bad looking but it was really those tattoos that covered one entire arm. We're not talking a few tattoos on her arm. The whole thing was colored in some elaborate design that I couldn't really make out in my effort to not stare. Her boyfriend also had a bunch of tattoos but nothing like hers.

The two of them seemed a little uncomfortable with all the attention they were getting, which made no sense to me. If they didn't want to be stared at, they should've worn something with sleeves. I also didn't understand the point of all those tattoos. I would only subject myself to that kind of pain and prejudice to ink something of importance, not just any old random design. I know this one guy who has his friend's name tattooed on because his friend died. I could see myself doing that if I was younger and braver.

As chance would have it, these two tattoo-obsessed people sat right next to us. I don't know why anyone in their right minds would sit next to a table full of little kids when there are other tables available. Maybe that explains all their tattoos. It took awhile for my oldest to notice them, as evidenced by her jaw dropping. I silently signaled her to continue eating and then started distracting my son with all sorts of lame questions. Because if anyone was going to go up to them and say innocent but rude comments, it would be my little boy. He would ask why they drew on their arms, tell them they drew it wrong, offer to draw it correctly, and then come home to draw on himself with a Sharpie. I mentally prepared my excuse: He's just hungry and tired. He's got ADD. He's not my kid. Amazingly, he did not make one comment about their tattoos. Not a single one. Whereupon I touched his forehead to see if he had a temperature.

So I guess it does pay to sit next to kids if you have tattoos and don't want to be gawked at. For sure don't sit close to old people, because these are people who are not used to them and have forgotten all their manners. Especially don't sit next to old Asian ladies who never had decent manners to begin with. I can say this because my mom is Asian. She's actually very polite but it gets lost in translation. For example, "who calling" and "may I ask who's calling please" just doesn't have the same ring.

Where was I? Oh yeah, tattoos. They're everywhere, they're no longer representative of thugs, and they're another modern trend. So how come they still garner so much attention? These are the pointless thoughts in my brain.

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