Black script lettering reading Nobodies and Perfect with a pink and black shaded heart between them, across the upper chest.

Script words and pink heart on upper chest

Lettering · Chest · Mixed · Photo

A close photograph of a woman's upper chest showing black script lettering reading "Nobodies" on the left and "Perfect" on the right, with a small heart between them. The heart is shaded from pink at the top to black at the bottom, while the lettering is solid black with simple linework. The framing is centred on the chest and collarbones, with the face cropped out of shot.

Lettering Chest Script Word Heart

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 clock above the nurses' station says ten to four, and you have reheated the same mug of tea twice. In bay three, Mrs Okafor has rung her call bell again, wanting to know whether the man opposite snores on purpose. You tell her he does, and that he is doing it to annoy her, which satisfies her for nearly ten minutes.

Keep reading

Dev is writing the handover on the back of a pharmacy label because the printer has jammed for the third time this week. He reads out what someone has scrawled on the whiteboard in red marker: Nobodies Perfect, with a heart drawn beside it, the heart shaded darker at the bottom where the pen ran out. Nobody admits to writing it. Ruth swears it was the porter who sleeps in the linen store. You tell Dev it is a misspelling, and he tells you that is exactly what a perfectionist would say.

At half four the ambulance doors bang open and the corridor fills with rain and the smell of wet wool. An elderly man has fallen in the car park and keeps apologising to everyone, including the trolley. You spend an hour with a cold cannula and a warm blanket, and by the time the window greys he is telling you about his late wife's handwriting, which he says was the only thing about her that was ever a mess, and that he loved her for it.

At seven you walk out past the bins. Through the glass the whiteboard is still there, the heart smudged where Dev wiped his thumb across it. You leave it as it is. Somebody will read it tomorrow night, and you would rather they found the word wrong than went looking for a perfect one.