I have a tattoo.
It's discreet, and not the most brilliant piece of art but I love it.
I'm talking about this as though I've just had it done, when actually it's over 5 years old. I would absolutely love to have another, maybe two, but I just can't find the courage to go under the needle again, and so I allow myself to wallow in other people's because there's just something about the tattoo that fascinates me.
And so it brings me to that man again - Tom Delonge.
I have Tom to thank for the inspiration for finally walking, or rather nervously stumbling into the tattoo shop. I was heavily into Blink 182 and I was playing Lostprophets and My Chemical Romance constantly in my car. Kerrang! dominated our television and I was in love with the EMO haircut and since I had always played things very safe, I thought it was time to 'rebel'.
OK, I didn't want an arm full but I did want something significant to my alligence to Tom Delonge - I chose a star.
Since then, tattoos are almost everywhere, and better than that, they are more socially acceptable. I don't care about the cliche question 'but what about when you get old', because by then they'll be a generation of pensioners with tattoo's and so we won't look out of place.
Big Fella recently put his name on the list at our local Tattooist (he already has two tattoos). They have a waiting list until next summer - that's not bad. Flicking through the design book my desire was once again fuelled, and so I'm thinking about stars again - just something dainty and subtle, something that is very me.
Now, designs like the ones pictured are completely beautiful, but I'm not sure they're for me - a little too big maybe, but the stars themselves are perfect, a cutie one on the foot is probably more me than anything.
If only I had the courage to do it.
I recently found this picture of the lovely Jessica Alba and her little pink bow - surely an indication you can have a tattoo and still carry a Fendi handbag (!)
I do wonder sometimes whether I left it a little too late to get a tattoo and whether I had it done in the wrong place for me. I never intentionally wear clothes that reveal it, and if I bend down to see to one of the kids at nursery, I shudder at the feel of my t-shirt rising and my star exposed; maybe I am not the rebel I thought I was, and so for now I think I will continue to fantasise about a star on the back of my neck, a daisy chain on my foot and my children's names on my wrists rather than join that waiting list until next summer, but be sure of future Karen Roderick characters with tattoo's because I just have to channel this desire somewhere.
Karen XX














Sanderson, refuelling my love for Paris.











































