Everybody talks about getting a Pisces tattoo like it’s just picking a menu item. You see the cool designs, you maybe read up on the meaning, and then you just slap it on the forearm or the ribcage because that’s what the last Instagram influencer did. But let me tell you, that approach is a total mess. It’s the highway to regret, and it completely misses the point of getting good, lifelong ink.
People spend all their energy debating the line work, the color palette, whether it should be two fish or just the symbol. But they skip the one question that really matters: Where is this thing going to sit when you’re 45, trying to close a business deal, or maybe just spending the day with your grandkids? You’re designing for today, but you’re living in decades. That’s the screw-up.
You’ve got the folks pushing the side of the hand—looks cool for six months, fades out in two years, and maybe costs you a promotion. Then you’ve got the inner forearm group, nice and visible, but try sitting through a formal dinner or a board meeting without feeling like every set of eyes is stuck right there. It’s one giant cluster of bad choices built on what’s trending, not what’s lasting. You end up having to constantly hide it, cover it up, or just straight-up lie about what it is.
Why am I so damn sure about this? Because I paid for the lesson myself, hard and fast, when I was younger and dumber.
When I first decided to get a big piece done—long before the Pisces idea even popped into my head—I was twenty-one, fresh out of university, and full of that stupid, young bravado. I wanted a huge statement. So, I walked into a loud, trendy shop and got a complicated, dark piece right on my dominant forearm. A big, snarling sea monster. It was visible, it was loud, and it couldn’t be ignored unless I wore a shirt meant for a blizzard. I felt like a rebel for about a week.
The real gut punch came six months later. I was gunning for this finance job, the kind of suit-and-tie gig that sets you up for life. I aced four interviews. I felt like I owned the room. Then, in the final round, I went to shake the CEO’s hand. He looked down, saw the monster, and his whole face just shut off like someone flipped a switch. The smile vanished. The easy conversation just died on the spot. I knew, right then and there, I was done.
They ghosted me. Flat-out. I was crushed. I tried to figure out what I messed up in the interview, re-reading my notes, calling contacts. No one would say it, but I knew. That damn monster cost me a serious career jump. I spent the next three years working in jobs I hated, wearing long-sleeved shirts even when it was ninety degrees outside, just trying to make the mistake disappear. I even looked into laser removal. Holy hell, that cost quoted was enough to buy a used car. The pain of the physical removal was nothing compared to the pain of the money and the career time I lost.
That colossal failure—that self-inflicted wound—is exactly what taught me where the Pisces ink needed to go. I realized the best ink isn’t the one everyone sees; it’s the one that’s just for you. It’s the one that tells the story without making you pay a price every damn day.
When I finally committed to the Pisces symbol, I found this old-school artist three states away who worked out of a quiet studio. I showed him the sea monster forearm, and I told him, “I want my Pisces to be the antidote to this crap.” We talked for hours, not about the art, but about life—work, family, running. We settled on the perfect, quiet location: the upper thigh, tucked right near the hip bone.
-
It’s private as hell.
-
Minimal stretching or fading over the years.
-
It’s only visible when I am truly ready to share it—like swimming or with a partner.
-
It sits over a big, strong muscle, giving it a solid feel.
The pain sitting right near the bone was a serious grind, but every buzz of the needle was a reminder of that first stupid, public monster on my arm. The Pisces ink is strong, meaningful, and most importantly, it’s mine without any external consequences. It’s the wise, grown-up choice. People out there are still looking for the perfect, visible spot on their neck or foot, chasing trends, and completely missing the point. Just like that finance firm keeps posting that job opening, bumping up the salary year after year because they can’t figure out why no one wants it, people are constantly paying for visible regret. Get the Pisces placement that only you truly understand.
