Second entry of the day. The first one is here.So when I had my physical on Monday, I said to the doctor, "Oh, I got another tattoo." He took a look at my ankle, and then my wrist. He said, "These are temporary, right? They come off?"
"Oh, no," I said. "They're real."
He looks at me like it's for the first time. (I've been going to this doctor for almost 30 years.) And then he says that he would have figured my sister (whom he also treats) would be more the tattoo type.
What the f---? I'm not saying that I am the tattoo type, whatever that is -- although apparantly, I am -- but the Sibs? Heavens, no! The mere thought would give her hepatitis. Free-spirited, she ain't.
On the other hand, he may be recalling her husband #2, who was himself heavily tattooed, and not in the good way. He had seven or eight, including girls' names which he'd had done over after breaking up, a snake, a Mom, and so on. But his classic were the words "It's all yours" which was tattooed ... well, let's say several ... several ... inches below his navel. If you get my drift. I suppose it was amusing, which is what he meant it to be. He once showed it to my mother, and let me tell you, she was plenty amused.
