If you’ve got a tattoo – even of the discreet variety – the chances are that you’ve heard this at least once. My family gave up lecturing me about my body art years ago in favour of just pretending it isn’t there, but then they really are pretty much invisible so long as I’ve got a long sleeved top on. But then I went and did this:
As much as I’m all YAY TATTOOS PIERCINGS BRING IT ON WOOP, there’s always been something stopping me getting a hand tat – mostly the basic fact that you simply can’t hide your hands and a lot of employers aren’t keen. But then I got a fucking grip and remembered that as a self employed writer, I am very unlikely to ever have anything that constitutes a ‘normal’ job – apart from anything else, anxiety and autism make me virtually unemployable and anyway I have to be at home for my son (also autistic and subject to various meetings, consultations and just your common or garden ‘fuck this and fuck this and oh fuck this as well’ meltdowns).
I made sure it was a really good tattoo. Rachelle from Adorn in Shrewsbury has inked me before – she knew exactly what I wanted and we were very careful with the placement. I absolutely love it. But interestingly, another reason for just getting the fuck on with it finally was that I realised that some sections of society will never accept any tattoos. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, right?
I recently did an interview about dildos for The Sun (I knowwwww, but they pay well and it was a good piece, and kids are bloody expensive to keep). I’ve appeared in the Daily Mail before now (long story) and they posed me as if I was weirdly double-jointed in order to hide the tattoos on my arms. I wasn’t overly surprised – the Mail is basically printed on the beige underpants of Middle England – but I assumed that this would be different.
Because y’know, DILDOS.
There was potentially far more for the readership to get offended about than me having a zombie Snow White on my arm. But no, they insisted that no tattoos should be visible, thus:
Seriously – they had absolutely no problem with me waggling a bright pink vibrator around my head, but a bit of ink was too much. I must be one of the few women in history requested to put more clothes on for The Sun. My new stag’s head means that I will now find it hard to ever hide the fact that I have tattoos.
And I don’t care.
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