It's So Nice To Be Nice

I spent my Saturday on a roller coaster with my sister, ten years my junior. She wanted to get a second tattoo. I didn’t support the first one, but since she is a young adult and is entitled to do whatever she chooses to her body, I only suggested that she place them in spots that can be easily concealed in an effort to improve her future employment prospects.

She agreed with this. The first was inconspicuously placed on her right leg. The second would be on her left shoulder blade.

She told me earlier in the week that the tattoo shop opened at 10am, so we left at 10:30, arriving at 10:45 only to find the shop closed.  The hours posted in the shop’s window read 1 pm to 8pm. I laughed and asked her if she had the correct directions.

She didn’t. After conducting another google search, we realized that she called place ‘A,’ but found directions for shop ‘B.’

I could do nothing but laugh. My sister, my only sister….was so excited that she called me throughout the week, confirming my attendance at the painful excursion, couldn’t even get basic directions to the proper location.

I asked her what she wanted to do: wait for the shop to open, drive to the other location, or postpone the entire ordeal. Instead of quickly choosing her next steps, she debated with a life-long friend and asked for my input.

It seemed like she just didn’t know what to do, but I did. I turned my car off, laughed internally, emptied some trash, ate some fruit,  and drunk some bottled water. It seemed like she was going to be making up her mind for a while.

It could be that she was just embarrassed, but she finally decided that she wanted to go to the other location – the shop that actually opened at 10am.

When we arrived at the shop, she signed in and I assumed we only had to wait for an available tattoo artist.

But things didn’t go as I expected. My sister didn’t know what kind of design she wanted. She only knew that Winnie the Pooh, butterflies, stars, and her middle name would be apart of the piece, she had no preference for order, size, letters, etc.

I could only laugh. This was the funniest thing ever! I couldn’t believe that she had a desire for permanent body art, but didn’t have a design in mind. When I mentioned this she said, “Oh, Danielle it really doesn’t matter.”

Maybe this comment reflected the difference in our ages, but if it were me, it would certainly matter. It’s permanent for goodness sakes, but I kept quiet, allowing her to speak for herself and determine the design.

With help from her best friend she came up with a design after about an hour and a half……

An hour and a half where I flipped through books of various letters, pictures of butterflies, stars, and all sorts of things. An hour and a half where I heard, “Danielle what are you thinking? You wish I would hurry up, right?”

I only replied with,”No, I’m fine. I’m just here with you.” And honestly I was ok. Yes, it was taking longer than I expected and her indecisiveness could have been reckless, rushing the process wouldn’t have helped any of us.

I guess it was like a visit to the doctor’s office. Like that, I set aside a block of time, not knowing when the experience would be over. And like a doctor’s visit, I gave up the fight and relinquished control over my time, kept myself  busy, enjoyed the experience, knowing it would only make for a good story.

And it did. We left at about 3:45pm, with a beautiful tattoo. Winnie the Pooh was discarded; it was a little bit much.  Instead, she settled for a butterfly surrounded by small stars- all in blue, green, purple and pink splendor.