Black ink Nike swoosh with the words I DO IT on the forearm, beside a hand holding a fan of hundred dollar bills.

Nike swoosh and I DO IT lettering on wrist

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A hand with red painted nails grips a fan of US hundred dollar banknotes against a dark background. On the wrist and forearm, a solid black Nike swoosh sits above small block capitals reading I DO IT, with partly cropped script above it. The ink is black only, and the photograph is cropped tightly with the banknotes filling the lower half of the frame.

Forearm Lettering Script Banknote

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 floodlights at the Salford track had been off for an hour when Mags Doherty found the boy still on the infield, hands on his knees, breath rattling like a loose gate. She had a fold of notes from the bookies' back room in one pocket and a grievance she had been carrying since six o'clock.

Keep reading

"Twelve seconds flat, and you call that trying," she said.

Kit straightened up slowly. On the inside of his locker door he had written the words in marker, the way other lads wrote the names of girls: I DO IT, the capitals a bit wonky, a looping line above them that nobody could read anymore, not even him.

"I did it, didn't I? Bloody well did it." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and the marker ink there was smudged into the creases like soot. Behind him the scoreboard still showed yesterday's time, because nobody had bothered to change it.

Mags sat down on the cold bleacher and counted the notes onto her knee, one at a time, the way her father had taught her to count the takings at the chip shop. Two hundred and ten pounds. She had bet it on the boy against a man who swore he'd fold by the second bend. Then she laid the money on the bench beside the track bag and stood up. "Again," she said. "From the line, and don't look at the lights." Out on the dark straight, Kit started running before she'd finished the word, and the lap counter on the fence clicked over once, then again.