Honey, I'm Off Duty
My tattooed, topless, larger-than-life roommate
Mak is a larger-than-life diva. She has the kind of presence you notice immediately, whether she is in the strip club or not. She doesn’t need a stage to command attention. If you met her in real life, you would probably find her equal parts intimidating and impressive.
For a while, we were roomies too.
Mak is covered in tattoos. You might imagine chains, skulls and roses with thorns, but hers are incredibly beautiful and feminine. Sensual cats of the jungle, exotic fairies, perfectly blended watercolors. I have no tattoos myself, purely because I have never loved anything enough to permanently put it on my body. But Mak is the kind of person who could almost convince me to change my mind.
She comes from a long line of artists and performers. Her mother is a model, her father an artist, and Mak grew up constantly in a pose learnt from modelling her mothers outfits and sashaying down a pretend runway. Pretty much every childhood photo she has shown me has her in some elaborate costume, pouty lips, demanding attention from the camera. Not much has changed.
I was slightly hesitant about moving in with Mak. She is “extra” in almost every possible sense of the word, and I am the complete opposite.
I remember coming home one afternoon to find her topless on the sofa, chatting animatedly to a couple of girlfriends who had popped round to visit. Her boyfriend at the time was diligently working away at the knots in her back after a night spent contorting herself around the stage — and various men.
