My scent is 'Vintage', Darling!

Ha ha I just read this article, on how to be a WAG.  Feel free to read it, then come back to me so we can piss ourselves together.http://www.wikihow.com/Dress-Like-a-Wag

I am so not WAG material yet here I am in bed with a footballer. How did this happen? Well I can promise you that I don't stick to the rules...

• Fake-tan. If I have decided to push the boat out and try and bring a bit of colour to my pale, Irish skin then more than likely I will have applied the fake-tan half-arsed in the moonlight and I will be frolicking around drunk (ergo couldn’t give a shit), looking like someone has spilt a cup of tea down the back of my legs.
• Hair. A trim every six to eight weeks? My hair would never grow if I did this, and none of this bullshit about it growing more if you cut it. What a load of rubbish! That’d cost a fortune. I get my step-mum to cut mine when it gets to the stage where I can no longer look at myself in the mirror. Although I’ve learnt never to let her cut it when she’s pissed off with you. That was a mistake! Oh and you don’t want to know about my bush maintenance! A bic razor if he’s lucky!
• Never ruin the illusion of perfection”. Hmmm I prefer to live by the theory of perfection in my imperfection. Getting up an hour early to do my make-up just to go to the shop is not my idea of fun. Spending it under my man is far closer to perfection.
A night in. Velour tracksuit, push up bra, shiny watch, full face and hair straightened and fluffed? Ermm more like; naked if at all remotely possible; no watch, clock or time, especially not shiny; full smiley face (as always); messy hair which you don’t mind being pulled and boyfriend fluffed and ready to go. And what’s this about no grime? Grimy, dirty and down right filth!

• “You don't have to have a designer wardrobe to look classy”. This is one thing I agree with. Well I agree that you don’t have to have a designer wardrobe to be a WAG but then I definitely don’t look classy soooooo….take from that what you will. The best three words to describe my style would be raw, earthy and natural. The worst would be; scruffy as fuck!
• “Its also important to keep your clothes in good condition. Never wear something twice…” Ah so that’s a big no no to turning up to the WAG’s Christmas ‘Let your hair down dinner’ (a break from their oh so stressful lives!), in your brand new Charity shop buy, which still had an aroma of urine and stale old fanny, no matter how much febreeze you sprayed on it. I like to describe my scent as ‘vintage’.

So in a nutshell, just because I am a WAG you will not find me ironing my own knickers, or getting someone else to iron them for me. In fact you will not see me ironing anything. The closest I’ve come to an ironing board was when my fella bent me over it the other week, but to be fair that was pretty damn close. HOT!

You will also not see me in anything designer, unless I have found it in a Charity shop and unless it is unbelievably cool and original, but even then I do not have access to my boyfriends bank account and really couldn’t afford designer on my salary, even if I wanted to.

You will not see me walking round with a book balanced on my head, unless they somehow figure out how to insert supermarket-style scanners into our heads in order to process information quicker. I live in hope!

You definitely will see me with greasy hair, no make-up, holes in all my hand-me-down-clothes, chipped nails with a variety of different substances underneath them, looking like I’ve been up all night and might well have been. I regularly leave my house without my phone, purse and head if possible, so remembering to accessorise myself is way down the list. I am what I am, but I am a WAG. World’s Worst WAG!!!