Fine line black tattoo of a small bow on the inner wrist of a raised arm, with white nails and a ring visible above it.

Small bow tattoo on the inner wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A small bow is drawn in thin black outline on the inner wrist, with a few simple loops and tails and no shading. The fine, even linework sits against pale skin, and the bow is the only ink in the frame. The clenched hand, white nails and ring are above it, with blurred green grass in the background.

Fine line Forearm Bow Ribbon

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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

Nobody at the reunion remembered the ribbon, which was the first thing I checked for. Mrs Achterberg's Year Six class had one rule about hair ribbons: navy only, tied in the morning, and off before assembly. I broke it every Tuesday for a year, a loop of white satin knotted into my plait so it sat above my ear like a bird that had landed and thought better of it.

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The hall in Harrowby smelled of squash and floor polish, and the caterers had put out sausage rolls under cling film that had gone soft. Dean Pryce, who had been sick on the coach to Kew, shook my hand like a man signing for a parcel. Then Lorna Duffy came across the room with her glass held in front of her and said, "You still owe me a ribbon," as though we had been arguing since break.

She had lost hers in the cloakroom the week of the nature trip, and the whole class was sent to search for it. I had found it in my coat pocket and kept it in my desk, and I never gave it back. I said sorry, and she said she had been waiting thirty years for that, and then she laughed so loudly that Dean turned round to see who had been hurt.

Outside in the car park she tied the ribbon I had brought, grey at the edges, around her wrist rather than her hair, pulling the loops tight with her teeth the way we used to. She said it made her look like a present somebody had forgotten to deliver. I told her that was the nicest thing anyone had said about me all year, and we stood by the bins until the cling film sky went pink, waiting for the bow to hold.