What Nourishes Me Destroys Me

Quod me nutrit me destruit.

What nourishes me destroys me.

Think about it.

No, really, I challenge you to think critically about this kitschy, little hipster phrase that I chose to splash across my collarbone for all humankind to gawk at. It's not like I made this decision lightly; I'd thought about this expression for years before it ever even touched my skin, but I've always been kind of a fly by the seat of my pants sorta gal, so it just happened to land on my chest at a party one night in Oceanside, California, after more than a couple shots of tequila. Well, actually, that's how roughly 87% of all my stories begin; in San Diego with a bottle of 1800.

Years ago I'd read an article about the process of aging; in so many words, the article shouted at me that breathing oxygen rusts us from the inside out. That's right Whether it was a scientific piece or an op-ed, God only knows, as my memory has all but shattered to bits in between those last couple decades, the phrase "Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit" floated about, perhaps a bit too casually, in the jumble of words that I read that day. To my early twenty something, cannabis addled brain, I had just been enlightened.

What are the kids saying these days? Mind blown?

I just so happened to be a server for many years, in restaurants and bars where alcohol is served by pretty girls with silver tongues, a gleam in their eyes, and a knife in their thigh highs. Did you know there are places in this country where you're required to bring a picture with your resume in order to get a serving job? Well, I got one of those jobs - lucky me, right? In southern California. With lots of tequila. Have I mentioned I like tequila?

Now I know everyone with a tattoo will relate to this; we get tattoos for personal reasons, whatever they may be, but there's always been at least one instance where a stranger approaches you and either touches your tattoo or, at least, points at it, and demands an explanation for this specific skin tag. Never mind that you've only just met this person as you're carefully setting down their dry martini or trying not to spill the round of Jagger shots.

Call me naive, but it had never occurred to me, in my twenty-three years prior to this, that inking a Latin phrase across my chest in whirly, swirly lettering would ever cause me any grievances for the rest of my life; to call this tattoo a conversation starter is an understatement. On the other hand, had the fates not chosen to put this very polarizing expression smack dab in the middle of my chest, I would never have been able to share the many shocking responses I've gotten over the years.

Sure, you probably already thought of the usual suspects: beer, food, blah blah blah, but if you really sat down and took some time to think about this phrase you'd see that it applies to almost anything you could think of: Love, sex, careers, drugs, money, exercise, artificial intelligence, etc. etc. etc... And for some reason, for those that do stop and think about it, it can really touch a nerve! I've discovered that this simple phrase, especially when paired with alcohol, can make a person dive into an existential crisis they never saw coming!

One particular night, a certain wine-soaked cougar grabbed my wrist to make sure she'd seen correctly, the error of my ways.

"Where was your head at when you decided to get THAT done?" she cackled to her smirking cougar friends. Suffice it to say, I knew how to make a shot of tequila disappear in order to keep the banter light-hearted.

Obviously, it's always the women that are concerned for my well-being regarding this very inauspicious permanent piece of bodywork because I had another woman, who tried not once, but TWICE to offer cash for the immediate removal of said tattoo. Something about the devil, organic apples, I don't know; the lady was a sweet old regular who killed two bottles of red each time she came to our establishment for her solitary bible study.

Now that COVID has turned the world upside down, I'm not waiting tables these days, but damn, if there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't hear "sorry, I don't mean to stare at your chest", like maybe I'd forgotten a tattoo lived there and I'm gonna start yelling at them about my eyes being up here! Anway, it's the risk we take when we get tattooed, right? At least most people don't point out that Angelina Jolie has this same tattoo. Wonder what her story is?