An Explanation

An Explanation

In my last post, I revealed a malady brought on by the stress and anxiety of living a lie. As promised, here’s the explanation:

Loveable children’s favorite, and possible body art subject.

In a previous post, Bees and Calligraphy, I wrote the following about bees:

They make honey, that sweet nectar byproduct without which Pooh Bear would have never gotten his head caught in a honey pot, in that adorable image by A. A. Milne. If it weren’t for that image, I’d have nothing tattooed to my left butt cheek.

This revelation elicited a myriad of responses:

• That’s weird.
• That’s funny.
• That’s unusual.
• That’s weird in a funny and unusual way.
• That’s adorable.
• Wait, it’s on your butt? That’s not adorable, that’s horrifying. You’ve defiled a precious childhood memory. If I ever meet you in person, I will whomp you on the head with an ax handle.
• May I see it?
• A.A. Milne is turning over in his grave.
• That’s amazing. I have the same tattoo on my left breast.
• Stop following me you creep, or I’m going to blast you in the face with pepper spray.
• I’m going to consume alcohol until every brain cell I have containing that mental image is destroyed.
• Ick.

Note: Upon reflection, the thing about the pepper spray is probably an entirely unrelated matter.
But I have a confession to make: it’s all a horrible lie.

I don’t have a tattoo of Pooh Bear or any other beloved cartoon character on my left butt cheek. In fact, I haven’t any tattoo of any kind anywhere on my body.

I know what you’re thinking now: has everything I’ve read on this blog been nothing but falsehoods and mindless tripe. Allow me to clear the air regarding a few items that have appeared in this blog.

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