A reason for a tattoo?

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An idea, Sophia…perhaps a spray of flowers but I’m thinking more like a few inches of leopard print in pink at the joint of my left shoulder and edging onto my shoulder/chest area.
I had no intention of ever having a tattoo. Probably wouldn’t have done if my attempts at self-branding hadn’t been so rubbish. Actually I’m really proud of the few brands that show but they’re just not visible enough and the really sick deep flesh ones don’t appeal. The only other thing I like the look of are the raised skin facial markings of some of the African tribes but I have no idea how to do that and I’m not brave enough to mark my face anyway. I would definitely have some down one arm if I ever get chance to go to Africa though.
So, western middle-class tosser that I am, I designed my own tattoo and had that done. (That’s what the picture is, my tattoo which then got used for the cover of the novel about that tattoo. Never do things in halves) then I decided to have my girls names inked round my ankle but it looked a bit shit so I had their favourite flowers and a dragonfly for Kylie, a dragon for Natalie then my foot covered in dragonflies, er…for me.
Now it’s my left arm with all the grandchildren’s names and lots of colours, stars, flowers, swirls etc. Most of them are my designs, all the lettering is mine. The design of my armband is my own. It’s got to be yours or what’s the point? I don’t join clubs, I start them.
So, continuing my theme of font and bright colours I reckon my gorgeous new granddaughters name and some pink leopard-print, maybe a bit of yellow too. I don’t give a shit about the macho crap most guys go for, my tattoos are in recognition of who they’re named after and the propensity for bright colours that my colourblindness and too much LSD when I was younger push me towards.
Anyway, real men don’t give a F what lesser men think.

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