On Tattoos

I’m not really a celeb watcher but I’m suddenly spending a lot of time lately thinking about Angelina Jolie following the birth of her twins.
I picture her French mansion at 3 a.m., the light from her nursery illuminating the roofs of paparazzi vans as she and Brad
(or a team of nannies) prop open their eyelids to conduct simultaneous feedings. (Even celeb babies have to eat, or so the tabs say.)
Mostly I’m wondering where the heck Angie is going to tattoo the coordinates of her babies’ birthplace.
It has been reported repeatedly that she inks them high up on her arm.
But with two new babies, this poses a conundrum.
Will she have two identical sets of coordinates done or just one to represent the multiple birth? Will they be parallel or beside one another? Whose mark goes first—Twin A or Twin B?
Perhaps the first one out of the womb gets dibs on the spot below Shiloh’s? Will this begin a lifelong rivalry?
To complicate matters, isn’t Angie running out of space on her arm to display the art?
If so, where will she put the new tattoo(s?) On her back where noone would see them? On her wrist in a bracelet formation?
I suppose they could go atop her C-section scar to be literal about it.
The folks in my morning boot camp would probably have something to say about this if I polled them.
The former track star who lapped me in the mile warm-up today sports a red ankle tattoo.
The gal who works out directly in front of me has chosen to place a sprawling cross on her upper shoulder.
Grunting Man on my left has his girlfriend’s name on his bicep.
As the sweat pools on my yoga mat, it occurs to me that that I am apparently the only one in the entire boot camp who does not have a tattoo. (The instructor is covered head-to-toe in camouflage, but I’m betting there’s one in there somewhere. Note, too, that I cannot accurately see any of the other campers because I’ve forgotten to insert my contact lenses.)
This gets me thinking: If I were to get a tattoo, what would it be and where would I put it?
I could go political and have a scribe stencil Obama’s logo on my calf and thus declare to the entire world my liberal leanings. When I ran, the calf muscle would contract and the logo would look like a flag waving.
Perhaps it would be more useful to place often-forgotten passwords on my palm. I’d have the key to Kodak.com on the right hand and my Gymboree pin number on the left.
Actually, what I really need are the directions for downloading my camera into my computer, though that would take up a lot of real estate.
Then again, tattoos aren’t really supposed to be practical.
Maybe I’d go all sentimental like Angie: I’d have the address of our first home tattooed on my foot—10153 Brookmoor Drive—in honor of place where my adult life started.
But wait, I’ve got it!
I’d use a phrase that encompasses this exact point in my life. It would articulate my work life and my life’s work (motherhood). I would put it in bold Helvetica type for all to see.
On my forehead I would tattoo: “SHUT THE DOOR!”

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