On the phone with my parents, a few weeks ago:
- DAD: Mom wants to know if you have a tattoo.
ME: What? Well, yeah, I do.
DAD: She says she saw a picture of you on the internet with a tattoo.
ME: …uhhh, that’s weird. I don’t know where there would have been a picture of that online!… [note: my tattoo is about the size of a 50-cent-piece, and on my upper-left back area, and I have maybe two shirts in my entire wardrobe that expose it at all]
MOM:[in the background] You really shouldn’t do that! It’s not ladylike! [etc., etc., at this point, I kind of tuned it out. When have I ever concerned myself with being “ladylike”? ;)]
A few hours later, I happened to look at my personal blog, and was reminded that I’d posted a photo from scrimmage a couple days before this conversation took place. And, of course, my number for scrimmage was written on my arm in black marker.
So, yeah, apparently my mom thought a number hastily scribbled on my person in black Sharpie was a tattoo. Way to be, Ma. 😉