Fine line black tattoo of a bobby pin on the inner forearm, with a real bobby pin resting on a dark surface below.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Bobby pin tattoo on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A single bobby pin is drawn in thin black linework on the forearm, angled diagonally with a slight wave along its length. The ink is solid black with no shading, and the skin tone is the main colour in the frame. A real metal bobby pin sits on a scratched dark surface beneath the arm, mirroring the tattoo.

Fine line Forearm

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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

Mrs Ivy Dunmore had kept the church key on a red string for forty years, and on the Thursday before the harvest supper it went missing. The vicar searched the pews. The choir boys searched the bell tower and came down covered in pigeon feathers. By four o'clock the flower ladies stood at the lych gate with their arms full of dahlias and nowhere to put them.

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It was Ivy who remembered the hairpin. She had worn one for half a century, a plain steel grip she slid in at the nape of her neck every morning before the mirror, and she had never once let it fall out. She knelt on the vestry flagstones with her hip complaining, bent the pin into a crank against the step, and fed it into the old brass lock the way her late husband had shown her when the shed door jammed in 1971.

The lock gave with a sound like a held breath let go. Inside, the vestry smelled of beeswax and damp hymnals. The flower ladies crowded in behind her, murmuring about a miracle, and Ivy said nothing about the key at all.

It was hanging on its hook by the door, red string neatly coiled, exactly where she had put it on Tuesday after she had moved it to clean the rail. She had simply forgotten she was the one who had moved it. She pushed the hairpin back into her hair, lifted the dahlias from the nearest arms, and began arranging them in the brass jug as though she had never doubted a thing.