The Curious Case of the Orange Chicken Tattoo

Tattoos are commitments that I just can not make. Partially because they're frowned upon in Judaism, partially because I'm ridiculously indecisive and would spend 5 years trying to come to terms with my choice before making one, and partially because my mom would kill me.

So when I somehow ended up at an alcohol-less, ghetto State Fair in New Jersey a few days ago, the "Henna Tattoo" booth seamed incredibly appealing. I could never come up with a design for a permanent tattoo, but I thought I wouldn't have any problem agreeing on one that would only last for 3 weeks (this was a wrong assumption.) To go with the butterfly or not (just kidding. I know better than that.) Finally, I agreed on the Chinese word for "happiness" on my left wrist because words like "trustworthy" and "honesty" just didn't suit me. The actual henna part only took a few minutes but then I had to wait impatiently for 2-hours for the dumb thing to dry.

Forty-five minutes later, while frazzled exiting one of the kiddie rides, I forgot about the thing and smudged half of the tattoo. Now I was hungry AND annoyed that I would have a smudged situation stuck on my arm for 3 weeks! So I went back to the sketchy henna booth and drove the man crazy to fix the thing to the best of his ability. Knowing myself all too well, I knew I'd manage to ruin it again before it was ever given a chance to dry. One hour and 3 smudges later, my arm now says, "orange chicken," (which must be only a few smudges off from "happiness.")

I should probably stick to the lick-on tattoos in the future cuz those things don't require dry-time or commitments.