Apology: Bindi

Dear lovely Target cashier,

I have long made a habit of complimenting people I meet on something — jewelry, glasses, shoes, hairstyle, etc. — as a way of casting positive energy into the world. Today I complimented your bindi, but went one unnecessary step further.

“That,” I said pointing to the same spot on my own brow, “is gorgeous! It looks like it is an anchor! Is it?” The small gem looked quite a bit like the one I had in my chest years ago.

You paused, so I said exactly that: “I had an anchor in my chest a while back. It looked just like that!”

“It is a bindi…” you said, and smiled.

I was torn: It looked so much like an actual anchor, but I know little about these things… Are pierced bindi not done? I didn’t want to pile on more assumptions. Unsure of where to go next, I asked, “Is it a piercing? I had a piercing…” and pointed again at my heart.

“It is a sticker, a bindi,” you said, smiling.

I fought the urge to insist that, while I knew it was a bindi, I’d thought it was a piercing. I chided myself for not using the term bindi to begin with. Palm-colored guilt churned together the need to demonstrate that I was not completely clueless about other cultures with the obvious proof that I was actually too clueless.

“It is beautiful.” I took my bag and smiled hugely at you. “Thank you so much! Have a good rest of your day!”

A long time ago, when I first got my anchor, someone who didn’t know much about them asked if it was really a piercing, and if so, where… how…? Being an ass, I gave a smart-ass answer: “It goes all the way through. Changing the piercing is a bit of a hassle…”

I hope that your family gets a kick out of your story about the crazy, old white lady who thought your bindi was a piercing. You deserve all the smiles and good energy you can get after dealing with my sorry self.

Thank you for simply continuing to smile.

Just Kristin