Check Yourself

Every now and then, something happens that makes you stop for a minute, reflect, and take a little personal inventory on your life. You know what I mean? Like, for example, you might see someone out in public who is in really rough shape living on the street and say, "Wow. I'm so lucky to have a place to live and food to eat." Or you might hear about someone who recently died and say, "Wow. I'm so lucky to have my health." Or maybe you see someone with no legs and say, "Wow. I got such a great sale at DSW today." Whatever. You get the point.

Today was a day like that. It wasn't necessarily a "wow, my life rocks" kind of moment. Don't get me wrong...I appreciate my life and I know I have it better than most (OK, all) people...but this particular situation made me realize something much different. That realization, my friends, went a little something like this...

"Wow. I'm not such a bad ass, after all."

Let me backtrack a little bit. Most of you know that I have a few tattoos scattered across my body. Four, to be exact...for now. Some people out there are a little put off or sensitive about the whole tattoo thing, and to those people, I respectfully say: LIGHTEN UP. It's my body, and if I want to permanently mark it up or put holes in it or spread peanut butter all over it, why should you care? There are a lot more pressing issues to worry about in this world, like world peace and health care and the price of iced coffee. So get off my (tattooed) back.

Not that I got the tattoos to be cool or edgy or anything...but I think there is a certain stigma associated with being a tattooed person. They have become a lot more mainstream in the past twenty or so years...so it's not just the pirates or the convicts or the bikers or the carnies who are getting inked anymore. But I think, in general, people with tattoos are looked at as maybe a little more...

...risky
...careless
...stupid
...awesome

Call it what you want. I think I fit all of those descriptions pretty well.

OK...so maybe I do consider myself a teeny bit of a bad ass for going "under the needle" a handful of times. I risked a considerable amount of discomfort for something I wanted, and even though my dad warned me a long time ago that "no one will ever hire you with a tattoo," I am currently in my ninth year as a school counselor, molding the youth of America into strong, successful, and well-rounded bad asses of the future.

So where the hell was I? Oh, right. Being a bad ass. So, as far as I know, nothing has gone wrong in my life because I have tattoos. I still got hired, my friends still like me, my husband still wanted to date and marry me, my dogs still let me take them for walks, and Mensa still proudly welcomes me as a member. However, there is still one group out there who absolutely still discriminates against tattooed citizens...

THE BLOOD DONATION PEOPLE!!!!

Did you know that? Here's how it works--basically, if you try to donate blood, and it has been less than a year since getting a tattoo, you are NOT allowed to donate. What's up with that, right? Well, I guess it makes sense, because of the fear of disease and needles and infection and all that stuff. I don't know exactly how the whole year timeline fits, but I'm assuming they figure that after a year, any weird tattoo disease will have made its way into your bloodstream and killed you before you have the chance to donate blood. Yeah...that must be it.

So my last tattoo was in November of 2009, so it is only recently that I have been able to donate again. So, as expected, I got the call from the stalkers blood donation people and they begged and guilted me nicely asked me to donate again...so I decided hey, why not...let's go back and give the gift of blood. I'm a kind-hearted, generous human being. I'm on vacation. I should really give back.

And, no...it had nothing to do with the fact that I get a free t-shirt and a huge Snickers ice cream bar just for showing up. Stop being such a jerk.

If any of you have donated blood before, you know the process...

1. You make an appointment
2. You go into the hospital or center or wherever the donation place is
3. You check in
4. You go into a room and go through a list of questions to make sure you're "eligible" to donate
5. Once you're deemed eligible, you sit in a comfy recliner chair and get the blood sucked out of you
6. You get a free t-shirt and a huge Snickers ice cream bar just for showing up
7. You go home, brag for a long time about your selflessness, and make everyone wait on you hand and foot and then totally exaggerate the whole "post-blood donation resting period" for as long as humanly possible

There are probably some other steps in there, but I have provided the most important ones.

So let's (finally) get to the point of today's blog post...in order to do so, we have to spend some time on step #4. The big, bad, list of questions. It was during this step at today's donation that I had the "a-ha!" moment of realizing just how non-bad ass I really am. Here's what I mean...

The list has about five million "yes or no" questions on it, and a nurse runs down each and every one and waits for you to answer it. Some of the basic questions make a lot of sense, like...

"Have you had a piercing or a tattoo?"
"Do you have AIDS or HIV?"
"Do you have hepatitis?"
"Have you used needles to inject yourself with recreational drugs or steroids?"

I get it. That's kind of like Blood Donation 101. Obviously they don't want anyone with diseases or STDs or Jose Canseco donating blood. That would just be unhealthy.

However, the list gets even better. Here are some of my favorite test items...I like to call them:

REMINDERS THAT MY LIFE IS PRETTY BORING

Here are some of my favorite questions from the blood quiz...most were prefaced by, "In the past six months...in the past three weeks...in the past year, etc..." but I forget all of that crap. Just shut up and read.

"Have you had acupuncture?" - No.

I have ALWAYS wanted to get acupuncture! People who have had it say it's pretty awesome...and I almost had it one time, but I chickened out. Bummer. I feel like people who do acupuncture are mysterious and crunchy and connected to a higher zen-like power. Damnit. I want to be all of those things. But, sadly, I have never been acupunched. Strike one.

"Have you traveled outside of the United States and Canada?" - No.

What the hell? I haven't been outside of the United States in the past year. Oh, wait...now that I think of it, I have never ever EVER been outside of the United States. EVER! Not even to Canada. What a loser. But hey...does this count? This summer I'm going to Canada to play in a softball tournament...and I even need to get my passport. Oh yeah. PASSPORT. Up in here.

(Seriously? To go to Canada? WTF. The passport costs more than the gas it will take to drive up there. Yeah, that's right. I'M NOT EVEN TAKING A PLANE!)

That's it. I am the scum of the earth. Fucking Canada. What a joke. Strike two.

"Have you ever been in jail?" - No.

Ugh. Never. Not even for a few hours! Who am I? Seriously. What's the point of having tattoos if I'm not going to have a record to go along with them? I'm so clean, I don't even have any speeding tickets! (The five warnings might count for something though...right?)

The saddest part is, I am not really a very good person. Those of you who really know me know that I'm somewhat of a hooligan/derelict/anti-social personality. I can think of several times I could have been thrown in jail, like...

-that time at the Allman Brothers concert
-that time in the street outside the WPI frat party
-that time on Rt 85 with that street sign
-that time in that fountain
-that time on the way to the Allman Brothers concert
-that time at Yankee Stadium
-that time in the woods behind Ashland High School
-that time on that field with those sprinklers
-that time with that fire and the puke
-that time on Halloween outside that bar
-that time on the softball field at Holliston High School
-that time at the mall
-that time in that parking lot hanging out of that car
-that time on the way home from the Allman Brothers concert
-all of the other things that happened before 1994

See? Plenty of potential arrests...but no official ones. I guess I'm just incredibly sneaky and lucky. Sadly, "sneaky and lucky" doesn't come up on the blood donor list. I'm just a typical, run of the mill, law abiding citizen. Strike three.

And...just for kicks, a couple of bonus questions:

"Have you ever engaged in sex for drugs or money?" - No.

OK...what the fuck? Really?

Time out, people---I'm very proud to be able to answer no to this one...but here's the thing: do you really think anyone who has ever engaged in sex for drugs or money would...

a) take time out of their busy schedule to donate blood?
b) be truthful when answering this question?
c) both a and b?

I mean, really. Can you see yourself answering YES to that question...even if it was true? And if you decided to...how the hell would you justify it?

"Yeah...but it was in college."

"Sure...but it was the 80s."

"I have...but I really needed the money."

"I have...but I really needed the drugs."

"Yes, but just that one time. And he was the President, for God's sake."

Yikes. Double play.

"Have you ever engaged in sexual contact with a man who has had sex with another man?" - Ughhhh...can I get back to you on that one?

Seriously. I mean...I don't think so...but you never know. I remember that one guy from college. I could have sworn he was gay...but he was really cute. And he was on the baseball team...

No, I'm kidding. Really! I'm kidding.

That guy definitely wasn't gay.

xoxo