Non, ce dont je me repens aujourd'hui remonte plus loin que le mois dernier, et j'en ai pris conscience ce matin en jetant un oeil sur Facebook:
As a typical fiftysomething, I used to eye tattooed and pierced people with a little wariness and, quite frankly, a touch of bourgeois disgust. How could one do that one's body? what strange notion of beauty could lead anyone to enlarge their earlobes to the size of saucers or adorn their nostrils with a serried rank of metal rings?
But no longer. And I am not even sure when or how it's happened. Maybe a remark made in passing by my daughter a few years back hit home, and then I forgot about it. I was being intolerant, she said.
I felt hurt, but realized she was right.
Je promets de ne pas m'évanouir si elle arrive avec une araignée tatouée dans le cou!