Location, Location, Location

Once upon a time there was a young woman in her early twenties.

One day she and her then boyfriend drank too much beer and decided to get a tattoo. A small Egyptian Ankh. She chose to have it on her belly next to her hip bone so it would be small enough to remain hidden underneath a bikini. Because back then she didn’t realise how severely numbered her bikini days were.

A few years later she got married and had four kids.

Four expansions and contractions of her belly.
Four c-sections.
Four pregnancies worth of stretch marks.
Four pregnancies totalling over 100kg of weight gain and weight loss.

These days, said tattoo can be found under a couple of dozen stretch marks, so large that it is light grey in colour and the size of a hand. When in the sitting position, it disappears into an abyss of empty pregnancy sack fat rolls.

And it looks nothing like the Egyptian symbol of life, more like a drunk stick person doing shotput.

Do you regret your tattoo? I do.



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