Standing on a train platform on my way home I have time to reflect on my week’s journey from Sussex Girl to the Middle East (a poor Jordan joke, but let me have it).
I am freezing in bare legs in the middle of winter - I’m not sure public transport is something that Katie has ever needed to consider - and I feel tarty as hell.
The reactions that I have received for my complete overhaul have been varied. I was concerned that most women seemed to like my look; the fake tan, hair and nails seem to be entrenched as part of a modern culture that I am clearly not part of. For a woman who made her name marketing herself to men I was surprised at how the female population has embraced the plastic fantastic look.
Surely the women of the UK could spend the hours upon hours of time it takes to stop looking like themselves to more constructive use. Cure for cancer maybe?
I’m relieved that only comparatively few men found my look appealing. Perhaps the lads’ culture of the nineties has caused a backlash which makes the pumped-up, puffed-out look undesirable. Then again, the men who did enjoy my appearance seemed to be the kind who looked like they consider heavy reading a copy of ‘Nuts’.
So, will I take any gems of knowledge away with me on my as I retire my tanning mitt and hairpiece?
The answer to that is a defiant ‘yes’. I am now of the complete conviction that Katy with a ‘y’ is much better off than my counterpart. I don’t hide between a mask of makeup and fakery, I have time to think rather than buffing, polishing and de-fuzzing constantly, and I know the impact I make on people is down to my personality, not the copious amounts of cleavage I’m showing.
Thank you Katie Price, your guide to life has shown me that I’m much better off with my own.
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