Today is the first time in three weeks I haven’t had pain in my shoulder, which has been awesome. I tweaked it swimming and been near constant annoyance since, but today has been great. So naturally, I go to the gym to lift today, since I haven’t gotten to in the past three weeks. Smart, right? Thankfully, it seems to be alright. But the sudden disappearance of the pain makes me worry that I might have a piece of junk floating around in there. Ah well.

But that isn’t what I wanted to talk about today.

Over the years while working out at the gym, I’ve been exposed–completely incidentally, honey! Honest!–to various, shall we say, tramp stamps. Mostly, they are the run-of-the-mill variety: flowers, butterflies, dolphins, stars and the like. But today I saw one that furrowed my brow. It read, in swoopy script: Misfortune.

Now, I’m not entirely sure why women get tattoos in this particular part of the their bodies. They may have various reasons of which I am completely unaware. I can say, however, when guys see them, there’s pretty much only one scenario that plays through our cavemen minds. And I have to say, getting all mammal-y with the subtitle “Misfortune” repeatedly bobbing through the scene is not particularly heartening. Why not just print “Chlamydia” or “I’m the crazy one you’ll complain to your friends about!”* across there?

But (ha!), that doesn’t beat the oddest one I’ve ever witnessed. Nope, the one that still has me pondering is the girl with the Cross tattooed there. I understand professions of faith but I can’t quite comprehend being such a fervent Christian as to put the symbol of the crucifixion six inches above one’s pooper. Really? I mean, maybe you’re taking the whole “love Him from the bottom of my soul” thing a bit too literally. Because given when a guy might be seeing that particular tat, it brings a really unwelcome new meaning to concept of the “Come to Jesus” moment.

*Really, only feasible for Kim Kardashian.

P.S. – Being an old fart (read: over 25), I’m not entirely sure what a ‘guitar hero’ is, but after seeing Heidi Klum selling them in this commercial, I got a text message from my penis saying I need to by a dozen.

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