Driven to Distractions

You know the night sweats are getting bad when you see a moisture loving woodlouse making a bee-line for your side of the bed next morning. Honestly. I mean, the damp towel flung on the carpet is a bit of a clue – as are the giant sized bags under your eyes – but the woodlouse is proof positive that things are getting out of hand.

So there is only one logical and reasonable solution: revert instantly to mid life crisis mode and decide that you want a tattoo. To be honest I have been playing with the idea for a while but all of a sudden I found myself meaning business. I sounded out Husband first, and he is completely ambivalent. Either that or he’s humouring me. Good move, under the circumstances – he ain’t stupid.

Next I told Kite Flying Friend (aka the Friend formerly known as AWOL) that I was proposing a small seahorse placed so it just peeped over the top of my bikini bottoms. His only comment was that I’d better be careful not to put on weight or it would end up looking like Puff the Magic Dragon. Very funny. (Actually, it was!)

Of course the only sensible people to discuss this with were Funny Friend and Truly Good Friend. Funny Friend is the expert; she already has three tattoos herself, and naturally knows a skilled and creative tattoo artist. Truly Good Friend is thinking of taking the plunge too, although the design and situation are yet to be decided. A Cheryl Cole style wrist motif seems to be the front runner.

I am full of questions. Will it hurt? Will it fade? How long will I have to keep it dry for? How much will it cost? In the end Funny Friend decides that the best thing would be for us to all visit the tattoo parlour together. But will she just be holding our hands? Not a bit of it – she is toying with having another one herself; just a little lower than mine, a rather Lowry-esque stick figure… pushing a lawnmower. We creased up laughing. Think about it.

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