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Stop Needling Me!
Sometimes it's possible to accomplish something important by doing
nothing at all. Well, actually, I did do something. I resisted. I think that counts. Here's my story. Many of my friends have been getting pierced and tattooed for years. It's huge. Every neighborhood has at least one bodypiercing/bodyart place. Seems like they outnumber taverns these days. Naturally, they want me in on it. "C'mon Mike," they say. "It's fun! It's addictive! What? Are you afraid of needles? The pain feels good! And when it's over, you have something to show for it!" I find myself looking less and less like my friends because I'm not a human signboard for little animals, death, and calligraphic text. To compound the situation, I don't pick up the light in every room, reflecting off little pieces of metal everywhere. (And I do mean everywhere!) But I have a secret to share. I'll get to that shortly. While they've been spending their paychecks on this hoopla, I've been quietly satisfied with myself, exactly as I am. I'm not suggesting my friends do it out of insecurity. Some do, obviously, but many got started because their parents told them not to. I'm no momma's boy, but I'd like to know what kind of a reason is that? People are not packrats. OK, that's not true. I am a packrat. I keep way too much stuff. But that's not really what I mean. I'm talking about the fact that packrats are known to trade an item in their pack for ever-shinier objects. I do it too, but the one that kicks me is how my friends trade fifty dollar bills for yet another shiny piece of metal, or yet another patch of scribbled skin. Now, before anyone thinks I'm complaining, let me point out that I believe in freedom to choose, and if that makes them happy, I'm not going to stop them. What? Like they'd listen to me? I'm the prude with no tattoo, remember? How would I know what it's like? From my point of view, I don't need to find out. I don't think it's necessary to http://www.dontplayplay.com/html/Hum...929/25492.html |
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