Patty’s TattiePosted: September 20, 2011
Bill and I were getting ready to go to the pool and I was wandering through the house in my bathing suit, filling our go-cups with Crystal Lite and bagging up some Cheeze Doodles for munching. I had made my way through the living room and was heading for the kitchen, when a sudden shriek stopped me in my tracks.
“Patty Ann! What on earth is that on your back?”
Fearing a black widow or scorpion had landed on me, I started turning around like a dog chasing its tail, frantically brushing at my shoulders.
“Where? Where?” I yelled. “What is it? A bug?”
“No,” she answered. “It’s a picture of something.”
I stopped twirling and breathed a sigh of relief. “Do you mean my tattoo?” It’s on my right shoulder blade and is about 2 inches around.
“Yes. When in the world did you get that? Have you lost your mind?”
“Mom,” I answered. “I’ve had it for years.”
“No you haven’t,” she argued. “I’d have noticed it before.”
“You have,” I replied. “Every time you walk in on me when I’m getting dressed you ask about it. And every time I tell you the same thing. I got it one time when we were at our timeshare in the Cayman’s. I was 56 and having a post-mid-life-getting-older-and-fatter crisis. It’s the same year I learned how to dive.”
“And you’re lucky you didn’t get eaten by a shark!”
“I know, Mom, they’re lurking everywhere just waiting to eat over weight, middle-aged, novice SCUBA divers,” I said sarcastically.
“It’s a Butterfly Fish and Bill designed it and I like it.”
“And what’s it going to look like when you’re old and wrinkled?”
“I don’t know, Mom. Maybe it’ll turn into a Flounder!”