Thursday, 24 November 2011

How to create an Essex girl

This week I took Phyllis for her first fake tan. I know 6 is a little young, but before you judge me, it's for a theatrical event.

Phyllis was born in Essex. The hospital were selling little pink fleece blankets with 'I'm an Essex girl' written on them.
"Ah look, they're so cute," cooed I, placing one gently over baby Phyllis as she slept.
Little did I know that that one action would be akin to Maleficent's curse in Disney's 'Sleeping Beauty':

"Before the Princess reaches her 16th birthday, she will don a pair of stilettos and become...a TOWIE girl! Mwah ha ha!"

Fearing the curse placed upon his small daughter, the King (aka hubby) issued the following decree:

Princess Phyllis must go into hiding in the countryside, where she will learn to talk to animals, bake the perfect Victoria sponge cake and call people, "My luvverrr."

For extra measure the King decreed that all stilettos in the kingdom should be BURNED.

But this was not enough to stop the curse of the 'Essex girl' blanket. At the age of 3, Phyllis had already raided Bobby's make-up bag and tried on everything, much to Bobby's annoyance. There wasn't one square millimetre of her face that wasn't covered in 'slap'.
Birthday money was spent on sequined bags. Pocket money was saved to buy 'clippy clop' shoes.

At the age of 4, a friend came to play (a friend who has lovely parents who teach her words like 'consequently') and the two girls went to play upstairs. They came down an hour later covered in 'tattoos' that they had drawn on themselves in pen. The friend, when daddy came to pick her up, instead of thanking me politely for my hospitality, looked at my small daughter and together they recited, "Loser, double loser, whatever GIRLFRIEND," with actions. The horrified father turned to me and accused, "You've made my child... street!!"

We had a mummy/daughter day in the school holidays and I allowed her free choice of what to do. Phyllis chose to go shopping for dresses and get her nails done in a salon.
She has asked Santa for a pink poodle for Christmas- a real one, not a toy. Santa has said, "No."

Phyllis loved every minute of her fake tan experience, commenting, "I don't like my white skin anymore. Can I have these all the time?" Again, no.

We are eagerly awaiting her 'true love' to come riding in on his tractor and give her Love's First Kiss to break the spell.

Actually though, if I'm honest, I love my little Essex girl. She's her own little person who is not influenced by those around her and dances to the beat of her own drum. How wonderful to have a daughter like that. Bet you're well jell!

Today: What Phyllis has learnt from living in the country:
"When you have roast chicken, you can eat all of it except the bum. You have to put the bum in the fridge, else how will you have any eggs?"
We may as well have stayed in Essex.

Mama Jax

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