The Tattoo

I was coughing so hard last night that I had to settle in bed earlier than everyone in the house. You see, I have been sick, and somehow, I'd feel most awful during the evening. Thank God, I am scheduled to be seen by a specialist on Monday.

The mister brought the humidifier up to our room since I bring it down to the living room during the daytime. Then, excitedly, he said...

Him: Kahibaw na ko unsa akong ipa-tattoo! (I know now what to get for a tattoo!)
Me: HA?! 

Of course I gave him "the look" that I knew would definitely melt and clean the grime out of his senses.

Him: 

Pisting gi@t@y! Pardon my French (in Bisaya), but I really thought he was serious about it!

Him: Kani akong ipatattoo! (I want this for my tattoo.)

Then he showed me this.

...and that was when I knew he was really joking.

Hahahaha!

This was a drawing of me done by the young lady when she was home for her spring break. He hadn't seen this yet, and I guess he found out about it when he scanned a document last night. I remember, I left this there. This is so me with my black-framed eyeglasses, big pearls, my current hairstyle, and my favorite flowers.

Oh! By the way, I have nothing against tattoos. I know a lot of friends and family that have some. I know a couple of wonderful tattoo artists. I watched a tattoo reality series on Netflix. I appreciate wonderfully done tattoos, be they be in color or black and white. It's just that the idea of the mister with a tattoo hasn't been marinating well in my head yet.

For years, getting a tattoo has always been a joke in the family. If the children and I ask the mister what he'd get when he decides to get one, he'd always answer,

"A dragon on my forearm!"

And then he'd show us how big it will be—as big as a fly that you can hardly see!