Hello, my pretty treats of ‘hubba hubba.’ Well this morning, i arrived home looking like a troll…one of those ones by Russ, with a pink diamond in it’s belly button. I was woken up at some ridiculous hour (8.45am 🙂 ) and told to get ready, pronto if i needed a ride home. Now, if that sentence is mildy haunting from my delicious past of tragically, loser sin, i don’t know what is? Luckily, this time it was uttered to me by ‘Loverboy’ who didn’t want to go to work, in order to opt for cuddling his asian ‘honey bunny’ in bed, after she cried herself to sleep, due the utter pain that others have to go through in life. (That rape scene in ‘This is England ’86 is horrific, i get all emotional at the thought that some girls have to go through that and cry into my Cornetto….which is my current craving.)
I haven’t been able to blog over the last 3 days and simply because from
Saturday night, onwards and as Danni Minogues group was beginning to perform, i was slipping into a cozy leopard print number in grey, tossing my hair, sliding into grey heels (that i didn’y know my kittens had pissed in) and venturing off into the night, with my ‘Handsome’ for a weekend of ‘fairytale.’ I spend every weekend with him now, since he got his new place. I leave looking like the Ultimate Puss of Glamour and return looking like a troll….with baggage. I’m the most glam preggo in town. I’m refusing to wallow in maternity wear and i have a bump the size of a beer belly! It’s huge! But i *work it.* I realized that attempting to hide it under, ‘don’t fit me’ clothes was a giant mistake. Like why was i acting like i was an ‘up the duff’ school girl, that may have got preggo to a years older than her builder? I’m 29, in a highly loving relationship ( i’m know sickennning innit) and well now we’re having the most magical bambino in the world ever. Our legacy. That’s something to be proud of…and i am. (But i don’t half feel rough today. I feel like i’ve been hit into hard things and dragged over hedgehogs. My head is properly banging and because i haven’t had enough sleep. Whenever you return home from a holiday or a weekend away, and you need a nap to recover…you’ve had a decent time.)
Anyway, Saturday i tottered to Doncaster (well was driven in a black merc) to immerse my tanned, eyelashed, and draped in diamante self in a day of shopperoo. I have a lot of October birthdays to purchase for. One of my favourite things to do is buy pressies for others, therefore not only was i in my element and leaving a trail of glitter, feathers and pink behind me, ( i enjoy that ‘sin’ has now been replaced with ‘pink’…loser.) But i also have given myself the trophy, for best buyer EVER!!! I’ve bought for Hilton, hussies, hero’s and half-wits. I’m like CHAMPION at it. Yet it didn’t half knacker me. By the end of it my *totter totter, strut strut* was kinda more of a need coffee or drugs *draaag.*
The best moment of my shopping adventure, other than meeting the Wunna fans, old school friends in accidental alley ways and letting you all ‘feel my bump,’ was the fact that i wondered into Primark to find my kitty cat self underwear that might actually FIT me, instead of underwear that gets swallowed up by my preggo arse. My arse is like the Cookie Monster! Anyway, when i shop, i literally forget that i’m often being watched by teenage girls, or shop owners (I’m ethnic, they think i might steal.) So there i am, in my Glamour Puss glory, in my dress and extra plump lipgloss, bag of gold in my hand and i hear this:
‘OMG…that’s Chrissie from that Paris Hilton show!!!??!!’ OMG!!! And She’s rummaging in the BARGAIN knicker basket!!’
Haha…this was quite possibly the best moment of my life…period. It really did sum up Chrissie Wunna, to a ‘T.’ The bargain knicker basket!!! Love it! Hahaha. The funny thing was, that i wasn’t even just doing that snobby, poke through them to see if there’s anything worth being on my body. I was RUMMAGING through that thing, like a Gorilla with Drag set in 40 minutes, screaming, ‘Do i get the 12-14, just because they’re see through? Mum, they’re like £1!!!! ‘ They could’ve been soiled and i would’ve still contemplated the idea of them and held them up to my Primark, mirror image! ( ‘They’re a quid, i can always wash the snail trails out.’ ) We pissed ourselves, smiled at the girls, who were seemingly embarrassed and asked them about polka dots, after I signed a notepad. Whenever i sign anything, i always wish i was a Pussycat Doll and not the major disappointment that is ‘Love you lots, Chrissie Wunna x.’
When i got to the cashier the ‘take the money’ girl, had already heard the story, and told me she had seen a merry group of girls hover around me wanting to take pictures and that her friend is my neighbour.
All i’m gonna say is…if you are previous participant from a ‘one off’ reality tv show and you’re wanting a bit of glory…go to Primark. It’s almost better promotion than OK Magazine! My knicker basket moment travelled around the town that day in 20 minutes!! I was a staaar!!!
I enjoy my Saturday afternoons with my family. I’m a walking, talking embarassment and like the proudest family in the world ever, my mother, father, and brother look at me with giggles on their faces and hearts filled with glory. ‘WE bred that!!’