My Inner Chav
Posted by charley on July 5th, 2008
For some of you out there the prospect of becoming, or being anything to do with a chav is a horrifying notion.
They wear tracksuits (which in my opinion are the up-to-date version of the classic shell suit, therefore MUST be burnt immediately), they adorn themselves in Argos crafted, earlobe straining bling, and boy do they love making babies! But this past week I found myself embracing my “Inner Chav”… Firstly my broodiness increased as I saw a lovely group of teenage girls, all playfully dressed in matching boob tubes and sweatpants with JUICY sprawled across the backside, pushing their prams alongside each other. Well looking at babies just got me all mumsy but I’m 20 for gods sake! I can’t shower without leaving half the contents of the bath on the floor, I spent most of today trying on all my shoes and prancing about the front room to make sure they all still fit (the red peeptoe Morgan de toi’s with bows might not make it), and I still sleep with my ‘Blanky’ (a little toy sheep from Playskool if you must know, he’s 20 years old and proud!). I’m hardly mother material just yet, so how the hell do chavs do it?! I did hold a baby today, a ginger one at that…and felt all lovely as she stared up at me with her 3 week old blue eyes. Then she gave a sorry little whimper and the lip began to wobble, she was fed up with the n00b! I think I’m too selfish right now to look after such a small thing, I fear the high heel obsession pips it to the post.
Secondly I found myself wondering where I had put my Adidas superstars from back in the day…those days when it was cool to wear ties as belts and Blink-182 hoodies were all the rage. Nirvana t-shirts were quite popular too. Those trainers were not worn to death, in fact I wore them maybe a total of 10 times, but they were cool once! For some reason I wondered who I had given them away to, or sold them to, or chucked at. I kind of missed them in a strange way, until a pair of Manolo Blahnik Mary Janes came stomping into my peripheral vision and my imagination was whirled away in a tornado of cracked heels and strained calf muscles. I never wear trainers now, they’re a bit redundant in my world, but I do remember those ones.
Lastly there was a bit of an incident with some hooped earrings (of which I have only ever worn once in my life at an 80’s disco, and where I believe they truly belong!) and I wished I knew where I had put my old ones! The trainers were bad enough, but now I wanted to resurrect my silver hoops?! What was wrong with me! I could just see it then…Simon and I living in a council estate in Hackney with our 3 children and a set of twins on the way, I’m wearing last seasons velour trackies from Matalan and those damn superstars (oh the shame!), and the kids are running around with BB guns. When did being a chav become so easy? From now on I’m steering clear of the trainers and the bling…the baby is too cute to miss of course and as we all know when it’s not yours you can just hand it back over and skip to your own space. I welcomed my inner chav into the world for a few days, let it roam about a bit without buying anything, and thankfully it settled back down. Now, where did I put that Cascada cd?