I Got a Tattoo

My tattoo (I wish the crystals were still there too)

My tattoo (I wish the crystals were still there too)

The new thing: I got a henna tattoo and discovered my inner extrovert.

Here’s what happened: I recently went to a friend’s Indian-themed party, where a henna artist was inking designs on guests’ body parts. At first I though nah, but when I saw the sparkling crystal beads she was decorating the tattoos with, I became a giggly 13-year-old girl at a bat mitzvah—my turn next!
I went old school with a traditional flower pattern, which the artist, Neha, drew on my hand and bedazzled with blue crystals. I felt exotic. I was ready to ride an elephant!
The next day, my tattoo got darker, and everywhere I went, people noticed it. In an elevator, a young woman pointed at me and said, “I like that.” Same thing happened at the grocery store, on the train, even while I was passing through a security line. Strangers would stare, point and offer a compliment. It was as though I were balancing an adorable puppy on my hand.
I wasn’t used to the attention but I discovered I liked it. I soon found I was letting my hand linger a few seconds too long while handing over my credit card at the pharmacy or bookstore. “Oh this?” I’d say in mock surprise when the clerk (finally) noticed my bejeweled skin.
A week later, the cute “puppy” started fading, its lines getting ragged. The crystals had long fallen off. I’d subtly stick my hand out at a stranger and get… ignored. Ignored! My fancy tattoo looked like a brown rash. The final death knell: I absentmindedly slathered moisturizer all over my hand. The puppy had fled.
I wonder if getting a permanent tattoo would hurt…

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