Making Myself Beautiful, With Camay

Today I enjoyed a pub lunch out in the sunshine with my friends Queen Elizabeth the Second (QEII) and Bam Bam.

We were talking about tattoos, which is as natural and obvious a topic to talk about as anything. I relayed this story of how, when Grumpy and I went to Tahiti (obviously we'd seen one too many Cussons Imperial leather ads), I had my mind made up to get a small and discreet tattoo in a nice Polynesian design. Then as we sat on the Polynesian Airlines flight and I watched the lovely glowing honey-skinned hostesses walking about in their flowing green robes, which occasionally fell away from their arms to reveal a green tattoo, set off so nicely by the honey and the glow, it occurred to me, "What could be more bogan than a lily-skinned girl like me getting around with a tattoo?"* And so that was that.

Then Bam Bam told us of venturing forth to a tattoo den with a mate of his who wanted a tattoo of three small seahorses on his upper arm, to represent his three children. He explained this concept to the proprietor and artiste-in-residence who nodded thoughtfully, "I get ya, mate; I get ya." Then he ripped open his own shirt and gesturing across the entirety of his torso he added, "But I reckon what would really set it off would be a picture of Neptune right about here."



*You're lily-skinned? And you have a tattoo? Come on, you don't want me to start censoring myself on my own blog now do you??**
**You do. I thought you might.