…without revealing too much. So, here is my daughter’s tattoo, in all its glory.
Too big to be a Tramp Stamp, which makes it…what? A Slag Tag? Anyway, I’ve cropped the photo to hide any personal details, and now that the allergic reaction/ inflammation/ swelling/ general bloody ooze has all settled, this piece of dermatological graffiti doesn’t look too bad. It wasn’t even too painful, the way she tells it. The worst part was that she had to hold in her farts for so long, due to the proximity of the tattoo artist, which might give you more of a clue as to its anatomical location.
Fingers crossed this will be it for the year. Or, maybe I just need to chill out. You can’t stand in the way of the future I suppose. How does that saying go? “If you love something, set it free – if it comes back to you covered in tats – something something something” where is that dictionary of proverbs when I need it?
Wow, very detailed. That must have taken ages.
Took about 6 hours with no breaks
What! That’s inhuman.
Tattoos – something I admire and once even spent a summer photographing as a side-project to an event I was photographer at – but not something I’ve ever hit the “I’ll definitely never regret that” frame of mind with, ergo my skin remains in pristine condition – well aside from a wrinkle here and there and when the hell did those grey hairs start sprouting!
Tattoos were definitely the exception when we were young. I remember toying with the idea of a butterfly on my hip bone – Thank God I didn’t do it, I’m sure it would have hurt like hell, plus having absolutely zero personal meaning for me! My how times have changed…