Dark purple block capitals reading BEST DAY EVER on the inner forearm near the wrist, with a white rose lying beside the arm.

Best day ever lettering on a wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Colour · Photo

The tattoo is three lines of bold, stacked sans-serif capitals reading BEST DAY EVER, set in a single dark purple ink. The lettering has clean, solid fills with slightly textured edges, and the flat, uniform appearance may suggest a temporary tattoo. It sits on the inner wrist and forearm against a plain white background, with a white rose and green stem placed to the right.

Lettering Forearm Text Phrase

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The tinker came up the Brenner road the week after the pit closed, pushing a barrow of tins and brushes, and he sold Dolly Haskins a stencil set for a shilling. Three card plates, cut sharp, spelling out BEST, DAY and EVER in stacked capitals, one word to a line. She was to paint them on the door of the tea hut by the lock, because the men coming off shift needed something to look at besides the water.

Keep reading

Dolly was not a fanciful woman. She kept the urn hot and the bread cut, and she told the children to mind the towpath. But the tinker had said a thing she could not shake: that the words would hold only on a day somebody had truly had. So on the first morning she painted them in plum paint, carefully, and waited to see what would happen.

Nothing happened that day, or the next. Rain came off the hills and the paint ran in thin purple streaks. Her nephew Alfie said the sign was a lie and climbed up to scrape it. Dolly stopped him. She stood at the counter with her hands in the flour and watched the lock gates open, a barge of coal slide through, a dog chase its own tail, and she found she had noticed all of it.

By August the letters were faded but legible, and the men had started calling the hut by its sign. Nobody asked Dolly whether the words were true, and she never said. She only kept the lettering fresh with a rag and a little paint, and on evenings when the light lay gold on the water she would step out, read the three lines aloud to the empty towpath, and go back in to the urn.