Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Repost Whole Lotta Rosary

So it was another Saturday night in Bay Ridge and we had just got home from a friend's house. The kids were getting ready for bed. My youngest, Shayna, was having a birthday party the next day. We were pretty much set on the party planning, but needed gift bags for party favors.

I headed off to the 24-hour Duane Reade, six blocks away. By the time I arrived, there were already a half-dozen things added to my list. I grabbed a cart (although in Brooklyn they refer to it as a wagon) and was somewhere in the haircare section (shampoo for kids) when two young ladies walked by.

I had brought, as always, my Tattoosday folder with fliers in it, along with my camera, despite the fact that it was cold and in the thirties. But one can never be too prepared. These women were dressed for the clubs, coatless, bare-armed, and high-heeled. I spotted a tattoo on one of the women's feet.

I thought about asking her then and there about it, but I balked. These were two attractive young women in a drugstore late at night and I wasn't up for the challenge of being scrutinized as a creep.

Besides, I reasoned, it's only a rosary tattoo. Nothing extraordinary about that. Let me just leave them alone, I thought, they're obviously headed to some club.

But I ran into them/passed them a couple more times and, each time, I cursed myself more for being too cowardly to ask. So what if its just a rosary? Here at Tattoosday, it's not just about the ink, but about the story behind the ink.

I was at the front part of the store, trying to decide which individually-wrapped candies would be the least damaging to my children's teeth (for the party bags), when they headed my way, on their way out of the store. I figured, "what the heck?" and asked the young lady about her tattoo.









It's beautiful work.






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