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DON’T LOOK

I love discount stores, the whole idea of getting a great deal makes me warm and fuzzy inside and most discount stores are great for people watching as well, okay so not as good as water parks-they truly are the best-or amusement parks, but close, I mean there is a site dedicated to people watching at Wal-Mart.

I was at my new favorite Target in a nice upscale area, so I wasn’t expecting fabulous people watching, just adequate people watching. So, as soon as I turned down the household aisle in search of rug cleaner (Six dogs) there was a girl, young twenties, thin, short spikey blonde hair, cute in a rough and tumble way, covered in tattoos. I mean, covered, from head to toe covered, only her face seemed to be spared, so naturally I looked. I mean I have to believe that if someone is covered in tats they want you to look, right? Well, she obviously didn’t like my looking, I was just trying to read some of the text across her right bicep, something about love and life and letting go, but she was too busy reaching for things off the shelf so I was attempting to read a moving target-at Target…

“What are you looking at?” She asked me, and I was a tad bit taken back, I mean I wasn’t trying to be rude, but she had text on her body that I thought was there to be read…I had to assume she knew what it said, so she didn’t need to read it, but hey, what about the rest of us? I couldn’t know what it said without reading it, a bit of a catch twenty-two, how could I read it, if she didn’t want me looking?

“I was just trying to read your arm.” Truth. I mean, that’s all I was doing, I was tempted to hold up my wrists, point to my ankles to show her my tattoos, small insignificant tats compared to her panorama of ink, but still it would show that I like tattoos, that I was “inked” that we were kindred souls, but somehow I knew better.

“That’s rude.” She said and stalked off, the tiger on her left calf snarling at me.

Was I rude? I had to really ask myself, I hadn’t been judging her, or making fun of her, or doing anything other than looking at something that was out of the ordinary, certainly not the norm, something eye catching, and thought provoking, something that begged to be looked at. So I had to wonder, if her tattoos were like bait, a lure to get people to look, so she could pounce on them, and admonish them for being rude. Maybe they were armor protecting what was underneath, but obviously they weren’t there to be looked at.

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