Are strange people strange?

Yesterday as Sweet Hubby and I stood in line at a bakery for our Sunday morning paper and pastries routine, I noticed that the young woman ahead of us in line had designs of lumps on her arms, clearly put there on purpose.  She and her friend were both pierced all over their faces and tattooed on the rest of their bodies.  The front half of this woman's hair was shaved, and she also had little lumps on her forehead to represent horns.

I was so curious about those lumps.  Were they scars that had been treated with something to make them stand out?  I couldn't see incision markings.  Had something been inserted inside or under the skin?  I was fascinated and wished I could ask, but wasn't sure how she would take curiosity from someone like me, an older, plainly dressed woman who has never been bolder than to have my ears pierced (although I shaved my head several decades ago).  We seemed almost to be different species, she and I, and I didn't want to be rude or risk being rebuffed with a sneer.

But still, I thought, she's human and I'm human, we speak the same language, we're at the same bakery, we (probably) live in the same city.  Maybe we're not really as different as our appearances suggest.  And after all, it wouldn't make sense to cover one's body with art and then hope people don't notice.  So instead of talking myself out of approaching her, I talked myself into it.

I tapped her lightly on the shoulder and said "Excuse me".  She turned around with a friendly smile, and when I expressed my curiosity about the lumps on her arms, she quite gladly explained that they were silicon implants.  She even let me touch them (smooth and hard).  I told her I got a giggle out of the 'horns' on her forehead.  (It crossed my mind to say "Good thing you didn't go full out Loki", but I didn't.)  I confessed that I had hesitated to speak to her, but remembered that most people are nice and kind and that I hoped she didn't mind.

I need to remember that more often, that people who look very different from me are still people, made of the same stuff I'm made of, with the same organs, probably a lot of the same emotions, maybe even having had a lot of the same kinds of experiences.  No doubt most of us want pretty much the same things: to be happy, or at least content, in our lives.  To survive without too much struggle.  To be healthy.  To be connected.  To belong.  To be seen and accepted.  To be loved.  I'm glad I talked to her.  It was, all in all, an interesting and satisfying exchange, and I came away from it with a lot more than information.