The tattooed lady

My uncle, my father and their friends all had tattoos. I guess it was just the era, where the men were inked.
They weren’t my cup of tea — faded blurry messes that seemed to all look that old green colour. But something always intrigued me about them — butch men with colourful pictures on them, each telling a story about some point in their lives.
I am slowly but surely becoming the tattooed lady. It started with one, and now I’m hooked.
For those interested in the meaning of the ‘moving pictures’ (as Monique Kelly calls them) on my body, I thought I would explain.
My Superman wasn’t my first tattoo. On my left shoulderblade I have a Chinese character that represents the year I was born, the year of the tiger.
Then there is Superman, which many think is an ode to Bon Jovi, but no, it was Christopher Reeve, the first superhero crush I had. As he flew across the screen I was lost in his amazing blue eyes, wishing it was me instead of that gruff-voiced Lois Lane.
There is a hidden gecko, floating around where not many can see. Growing up in central Queensland, we had geckoes come in all the time. We would catch them as pets. He is hidden in my flowers, which go all the way down my right side — lots of fabulous blue hibiscuses which were my mother’s favourite flower. She would collect huge bunches for the house, in many different colours. Mine are blue as it’s both our favourite colour.
I have a very sexy pin-up girl on my left calf. She has the same flower tattoo down her leg and rests on a huge diamond, just above a banner ‘MAXI’. As I have been doing it for over 10 years, I thought it was fitting.
Now for my newest, my right arm sleeve. I have always wanted a sleeve. It is going to be a sweet sleeve, with special mention of relatives who have helped me through my life. Lollies, cakes, ice creams have always been the bane of my existence — why not use them to colour myself?
If you’re wondering, I get all my tattoos from Bodie at Steel Lotus.