Sleeves Don’t Make The Woman

One of the hooligans has a sleeve. This sleeve is colorful. And artistic.

Sleeves are expensive.

They are time consuming undertakings.

Sleeves involve pain and patience.

This particular sleeve is intricate, begins at the shoulder and goes all the way to the wrist.

I am not condoning or condemning the acquisition of a sleeve.  It is a personal thing. A preference.

The sleeve to which I’m referring is a tattooed arm. Our daughter, to whom the sleeve is attached, is a lovely, hard-working, polite young woman. She is respectful and kind. This hooligan is bright, loved by most -if not all, that spend any amount of time with her.

On a few occasions she has been criticized or questioned by perfect strangers with regards to her sleeve. These people know absolutely nothing about her. One woman approached her and told her that she would never get a job. (She has worked since she was 14 or 15).

Just this week a woman came up to her at work and told her that she would NEVER hire someone with a visible tattoo. My daughter wears long sleeved tops at work but apparently the tattoo was peeking out at the wrist.

We talk about the fact that complete strangers think it is necessary and appropriate to offer unsolicited advice to someone. We laugh at the ridiculousness and the futility of the comments.  For example, how in the world did the woman who told my daughter she would never get a job think she was helping? It isn’t like the tattoo could be scrubbed away with a little soap and water.

I’m not angry at these people and neither is my daughter.  As a matter of fact we find it humorous but also sad that people are often quick to judge another on something as superficial as ink on the body.

This little rant, if you will, of course reminds me that sometimes I assume things about a person because of the way he or she looks. It is much more fun to pick on the nosy stranger who waylays my daughter then to look in the mirror and realize the person looking back often has done the same thing.  Maybe not about tattoos or hair color but something equally as superficial.

DRAT!

Who sets the standard for us anyway?

Just now I had a little giggle as I imagined a person without any tattoos working in a tattoo parlor.  I’m thinking of a customer coming in and saying, “I would never hire someone that didn’t have tattoos”.

Thanks for reading!  And by the way, in my book, it’s what’s on the inside that matters.

I’ll take my girl with a sleeve any day.

 

 

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