Black and grey photo of a small fine line GRL PWR lettering tattoo on the side ribs, below a lifted grey sweater and above jeans.

GRL PWR lettering on the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows a small tattoo of two short lines of capital letters, GRL above PWR, set on the side of the torso just above the waistband of a pair of jeans. The letters are drawn in thin, even black linework with light shading, and the tattoo sits on pale skin against a dark grey background. The image is black and white, and the composition is a close crop of the torso with a hand lifting the sweater.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Lettering Text Torso

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 big top had sprung a leak over the lion pen, so we set buckets out between the seats before the second house. Nobody came for the second house any more. Dad counted the empty rows from the ring and called them a rehearsal. I was thirty-one, the last of the Corrigan flyers, and I still had my name stitched on the leotard in gold thread that had gone green at the seams.

Keep reading

Most of the company had gone by October. Tomas took the strongman's bar to a pawnbroker in Leeds, and the clowns drifted off to call centres with their greasepaint in tins. Only Mrs Hale stayed, sewing sequins onto costumes no one would wear. That summer she had painted two words on the side of the wagon in red enamel, letters big enough to read from the car park: GRL PWR. Dad said it looked like a text message. Mrs Hale said that was the point. It was meant to be read quickly by people who would not stop to argue.

On the last night I climbed the rigging alone, the net slack beneath me and the buckets ringing with rain. I hung by my knees from the top bar and looked down at the canvas wall, where the lamp caught the wet paint of the wagon through the flap. Then I let go. I did not fall, though the crowd would have said so. I dropped only to the net and bounced, twice, three times, the way Mum taught me when I was small enough to be frightened of it.

Mrs Hale found me there at dawn, rain still dripping from the guy ropes. She did not ask whether I was hurt. She handed me a needle and a spool of gold thread and said the leotard needed taking in at the waist. I still have it. The seams are holding.