Harpies

I hate it when people openly judge others and ridicule them to make them feel uncomfortable. I was in the store the other day waiting to check out. A man was at the counter checking out with his stuff, followed by two little old ladies, and then me. The two little old ladies were talking amongst themselves but talking just loud enough that other people could hear. The way people talk when they want to act like they are trying to hide what they are saying but really want you to hear it. They were commenting on how trashy tattoos were, what a disgrace it was to have to look at them, people with them shouldn’t be allowed to show them in public, etc. I could tell this was making the cashier uncomfortable. I noticed that she did have a small tattoo on her wrist that was visible which must have been what started the discussion amongst the elderly bats. I don’t have any tattoos. I’ve thought about getting one but I haven’t simply out of fear of the pain of receiving one but I don’t look down on people that do. If anything I look at them with admiration for having a high pain tolerance. I think they are sexy on a man. Irregardless of that fact even if I didn't like them I wouldn't criticize those that did. The old ladies tirade was obviously embarrassing the cashier which seemed to be their malicious intention. The ladies looked over their shoulder and noticed me. I was dressed in a solid black pantsuit, jewelry, and my hair was fixed all proper looking. To them I probably looked like a judgmental Republican type conservative. I guess that made them feel as if they should invite me into their conversation, assuming I would agree with them. The first lady turned to me, reiterating her point that tattoos are disgraceful, and then asking if I agreed with them. I responded loud enough for everyone to hear that if you had a tattoo it should at least serve a purpose, kind of like an advertisement. They looked at me confused. I then said “like the one I have below my belly button. It says ‘pay before you pump’. Don’t you agree?” They then looked even more confused and then one of them seemed to finally “get” it, whispered in her friend’s ear and they both made a shocked little huff and promptly turned back around. The cashier was smiling and the man in the front gave me a thumbs up as he finished paying for his stuff. The old ladies spoke no more; they paid for their stuff and got out of there as quickly as possible. The cashier thanked me when I reached the counter and we had a lovely little chat about assholes like the judgmental harpies we had just encountered.