Anna had always kept the idea of a tattoo on her fat ass tucked away on her private bucket list, one of those half-serious resolutions she never expected to actually cross off.
She was soft everywhere, hips that spilled over the edges of every pair of jeans she owned, thighs that brushed and rubbed with every step, an ass that jiggled and dimpled and refused to be anything other than abundant.
Most days she hated the way clothes clung or failed to cling. Some days she wanted to mark the very thing she was most ashamed of, turning it into something permanent and private and hers alone.
So when Prisca, her best friend since childhood, locked fingers around her wrist on a humid Thursday afternoon and dragged her toward the tattoo shop, Anna did not disagree.
She simply followed, sneak
