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Mom Gets a Tattoo
18-May-2007
Written by: Catherine Burr
Getting inked
Okay, so I got a tattoo…I’m allowed, right? Wrong! I thought I’d surprise my family and hadn’t told anyone, and so when a group of us were out to dinner, I wore a shirt that I knew would subtilely yet somewhat conspicuously show the newly acquired ink.
I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take anyone to notice the tattoo. Ten minutes? Five? An hour? Would anyone notice at all? Yup, before the waiter even brought the menus, my son glanced at me. And with a most horrified look on his face, he uttered, “Mom, is that a tattoo?”
Suddenly the chattering of family members and friends silenced. My other son, who was sitting at the far end of the long table, looked at me and his face said it all, but he repeated his brother’s question almost verbatim, adding a tone of disgust and disbelief, “Mom, you got a tattoo?”
I smiled proudly, “Yes. Do you like it?”
“What is it of?” An inquiring mind wanted to know.
My mind raced. I explained I had to leave to pick up Dad at the airport since his plane was coming in early.
“Wait!”
My sons weren’t letting me go without further explanation and more precisely, they wanted to know, “What was I thinking?”
I insisted I had to leave, and so, slipping my credit card into my son’s shirt pocket to pay for dinner, I made a quick getaway.
I arrived at the airport, picked up my husband and after arriving home; he tilted his head and asked, “Is that a tattoo?”
“Yes. Yes, it is,” I said.
The following day, my husband bombarded me with questions. “Did it hurt? Where did I get it done at?” And most importantly, “What was the tattoo of anyway?”
Honestly, with this much fuss about my “tattoo,” can you imagine what it would’ve been like if I’d actually gotten a real one?
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