Swimming at the community pool today, I saw something astounding, at first a little glance, then more was revealed. A man in the lane next to mine had tattoos all over his body. I mean his whole body! Trying to be nonchalant, I looked at the clock to the left and when I sensed that he was getting ready to take off my eyes snuck right to get another glimpse. An image of a woman’s face amidst vines and patterns from his waist to his chin, angel wings on his cheeks and over his bald head, a serpent down his back and splashes of colors and patterns down his arms to his fingers…all tattoos!
I understand seeing our bodies as a blank canvas with the potential for creativity and a unique statement. Our choice of clothes carries messages and energy, but they can be changed the next day. He will never be able to change the plethora of images that his body displays. And he wasn’t even the artist! Someone else did the work. I was curious and intrigued, sneaking another peek at the end of each lap. I wondered what part of the process was the mystique for him.
Then he got out of the water. His legs were completely covered down to his toes. Ouch! That must have hurt!
