i blame my WAGs-wannabe friends (hah! wannabe! wasn’t that a spice girls’ song? zigezig ahh…) for inspiring this.

nevermind the bad press about her, and i don’t really care much about her excessive collection of designer dresses, bags, and shoes (though they are, admittedly, amazing).

what i do like, or at least what’s portrayed in the media, is her clear devotion to her children, while looking RIDICULOUSLY FABULOUS, with nary a hair out of place. i mean, this woman seems to go almost everywhere with her kids, bringing them herself to something as domestic as soccer practice, without a nanny in sight, and appears to manage them admirably well too. sure, there are probably bodyguards hovering around… though, hmm, come to think of it, maybe she pays them to make sure her boys don’t misbehave in public. :p

in any case, she’s quite a force to be reckoned with, methinks. coz it surely can’t be easy handling three boys (that’s another point, i love that she has all boys instead of prissy mini-me versions of her – makes her look even more ‘fierce’, somehow!), while looking like the million dollars that she’s worth, and cameras flashing at their every move.

and in the spirit of the event that's taking place this sunday (*wink wink*), here's something i made up for my WAGs-wannabe friends, who harbour secret crushes on her... lol!

(to sing to the tune of Beyonce’s ‘If I Were A Girl’)

If I were Posh Spice
Even just for a day
I’d roll out of bed in the morning
And throw on my skinniest jeans and go
Eat out with the girls
And chase after kids
I’d shop with who I wanted
And I’d never see those credit card bills
Because my Becks will pay up for me

If I were Posh Spice
I think I could understand
How it feels to love Hermès
My Louboutins and all those brands
I’d wear just high heels
Though I know how it hurts
And I’d have my boobs inflated
A tan that’s never faded
And to-die-for hair that’s perfectly coiffed

It’s a little too late for a Spice Girls comeback
Say it’s just a mistake
To sing in a girl band
If you thought I’d grow frumpy
You thought wrong

But you’re not Posh Spice
You don’t understand (yea you don’t understand)
How it feels to love Hermès
Someday you’ll wish you had a richer man
You don’t like soccer
You don’t care how it’s played
Until you have your boobs inflated
A tan that’s never faded
And to-die-for hair that’s perfectly coiffed…

see you girls on sunday!

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This entry was posted on Friday, December 12th, 2008 at 6:45 pm and is filed under Ramblings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.