Image Credit: Felix Russel;-Saw
After twenty-three years of tortured marriage, I took my family by surprise when I received my first tattoo. I’d lived a life of servitude, jumping when told, serving when directed ridiculed for my opinions and ultimately abandoned for a younger model.
It was idle curiosity when I went into the parlour and had a small rose inked on my ankle. I hated pain. I but I found the ordeal uplifting, cathartic you might say.
Now I have Yvonne, a private tattooist, with whom I feel relaxed and confident. I am working on designs, pertinent statements, for my personal bits.