On Your Face

There was a cute little girl at the gym tonight waiting for her Mommy to get out of an aerobics class.

She asked one of the trainers, Spud, I think they call him, "Did you have to get stuck with needles to get those tattoos?"

"Needles? Aw, no, nothing scary like that. There's a tattoo fairy. She comes in your window at night and gives you tattoos when you're sleeping. But you better be good, or else you'll get one on your face," Spud said.

The look of horror on this poor girl's, as yet un-tatted, face was almost beautiful in its purity.

Still it was no match for my reaction when, at the start of my workout, I realized why some people call a "locker room" a "changing room." I'm renaming it, once and for all, the "You're Not Quite Ready to Be Parading Around Here All Naked Just Yet. Go Do a Few More Jumping Jacks and Then We'll Talk" Room.

In the Comments section, tell me about your tattoo, or EVEN BETTER, e-mail me a picture, and I'll post it to the blog. The winner of the best body art gets a visit from the tat fairy--just remember to be good. Unless you're Mike Tyson, then it doesn't much matter, does it?




He must have been very, very bad.







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UPDATE

Ya'll, the sign of a true friend, my lovely Kirstin heard a blogger's call for photos of tats and came through:
This is her lovely DMB firedancer complete with lyrics. Don't be shy, my pretties. We're all friends here.

Argh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Speaking of scary, Scotty, sent in this frightening photo (not a self portrait, ya'll ... At least I don't think.) Blogger hates Scotty almost as much as Word Press hates me, so I have taken the liberty of leaving a comment for him.