So, the party last night was good. T. wrote and drew all over my back, and the backs of my legs, and my arms. The good people at Crayola do not lie — it all washed off with no trouble at all. It was a little unnerving being so exposed in front of so many people — I was lying down on a table, so it was just my dorsal side that people saw, but still. And people wandered up and watched, made comments, read out loud what T. was writing, which was a little distracting. I think other people wanted to participate, but I had told T. beforehand that that was most definitely not an option, so he shooed people away pretty well. I think, all told, it took about 2 hours for him to draw everything. I think I was less self-conscious by the time we were done, but not totally.

I did bring an anthology of poetry, with pages dog-eared of things I liked — stanzas, or even just a line here or there. The compromise was that I would mark potential lines, and T. would decide which ones he wanted to use, and where he would put them. It worked out very well, in my opinion. And then he also just drew pictures, including DNA, a bat, and a butterfly.

We took pictures when we were done, which, oddly, made me more self-conscious than being painted on. In any case, I’m glad to have the photographic proof of my scene.