My latest dilemma happens to be one of my most vain; trying to sort out my next tattoo. Now, I know they’re not everyone’s cup of tea but I have been a lover of body ink since I were a child, much to the dismay of my father… I’m always looking at other people’s, admiring the artwork of the tattooist (when it’s a good obviously) and being intrigued as to the story’s or reason behind people’s choices. I have always known I was going to get one, it has been an inevitability that I, Lydia, would one day turn up at home and go ‘Hey Ma, look what I got!’. And I have, five times so far. To varying reactions.
So my recent problem, if you can call it, has been planning number six. Question number one, where to put it? The older I get, the more I start thinking about this one more seriously. I have always wanted sleeves, I haven’t got there yet but know that some people like to attach a slight amount of stigma to arm tattoos on show in the workplace. So that’s arms out of the equation for now. I’d always thought about my feet, until it hit me that Quentin Tarantino may not like tattooed feet and if I ever wanted my dream of a foot rub from him to come true, my best bet would be to leave them clear. So that’s no feet. Ever. Wrists, calves, thighs, back of my neck? Maybe. My back? Potentially. Although that’s another dilemma in itself. I think my back is kinda sexy (hey, we all need to have something we like about ourselves right?!) but there’s also this huge, beautiful tattoo of a frigate ship that I’ve wanted since I was eighteen that would fit perfectly in the centre of my back above two swallows I already have (what can I say, I love nautical tattoos…). But enough of that problem, unlike some women, I can’t multi task. Then there’s the issue of symmetry. Right now, everything is sort of symmetrical and my ex always used to moan that I should keep it that way because it looked nice. Then again, he was a lying cheat. Fuck symmetry (and for that matter people who take pride in telling others that ink makes them look ugly, everyone is different and beautiful in their own way, okay).
Putting the location aside, the next thing has been what the hell to get! When I was a teen, I’d always pictured myself with tonnes of film and music tattoos, Tim Burton iconography mixed together with artwork from Rancid and Deftones album covers. Luckily for me, times really do change. I still love Rancid as a band, did get Deftones album artwork tattooed a few years ago and, praise the Lord, the idea I had for a Nightmare Before Christmas sleeve has firmly been washed down the drain (I blush with embarrassment still thinking about it). Eventually film overtook my love for music, and film related tattoos have always been something I’d thought about, a way to celebrate and show my love for the medium. But how? Being a huge sexploitation and Russ Meyer fan I’ve often thought about getting a beautiful pin-up done but, sometimes, they don’t always come out looking beautiful if you know what I mean… Which is why I went and got Stuntman Mike’s car logo from Death Proof tattooed on my ankle instead. As a fan of slasher films (which the film essentially is), Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (which Death Proof homages the shit out of) and skull and crossbones, it was the best fit.
Which got me thinking, why don’t I just turn my right calf (over time) into a horror leg of sorts. Not only would it provides hours of entertainment in watching my father groan about how disgusting it is (the Death Proof tattoo went down very well…) but would really encompass everything I’d always loved about tattoos; beauty, personality, individuality and artwork. Which is why I’m now getting a gorgeous, bleeding zombie forearm inked on the other side of my ankle. The fact that it was designed by legendary film poster artist Graham Humphreys, someone we know, for a film that involves other people we know, just makes it that little bit more personal. Excited doesn’t even begin to describe it. And who knows where I’ll go from there. I’ve always wanted a Creature from the Black Lagoon pin-up and the odd panel or so from the Scott Pilgrim books… One thing I know for sure is this, Jack Skellington ain’t setting a single bone near my skin.