From frump mum to frat girl
In all honesty, it was not a OMG-I-wanna-pee-in-my-pants sorta concert. It lacked a certain 'pow wow' factor - there was none of your fancy pyrotechnics, no half-naked, body beautiful dancers moving lithely to the music (ok, so they had gorgeous physiques but didn't shed their threads. So with nothing to gawp at, I could only rip Dee's shirt in abject anguish, then bemoan the Jell-O-like torso underneath. Gah!), no jaw-dropping stunts or swooping across the Wembley Arena-type acrobatics.
Nevertheless, the concert was great. And I was content.
How could I not be? With 2 'brawny' chaperones in tow, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to experience a pop concert @ Wembley, and a chance to transform Me from 'drab bag' to 'dapper WAG-esque-but-not-quite-there-wannabe'.
Fine, I'm exaggerating. Noooo, again? Mea culpa. I'm part-Peranakan, and can't quite help myself, remember?
My fairy godperson was no cherubic, wand brandishing grandmama but a robust, rather tallish bloke who was bursting out of the only 'hip' shirt he owned, beer in hand.
This fairy godman, who didn't quite know who Gwen Stefani was - much less the songs she sang - accompanied me to the concert with nary a complaint, and was happy to bob along to catchy tunes like 'Hollaback Girl' and 'What You Waiting For'.
What. A. Man. My man.
Before all of you start blushing on my account, I promise to stop all gooey-pooey professions of luuurv to Hubs. I'm blogging this moment to remind me of what it meant to me - so thank you, Dee, for obliging silly ol' me and taking me to this concert. It was surreal seeing Gwen Stefani sing all my fav tunes - 'Cool', '4 In the Morning', 'The Sweet Escape' etc.
To me, you're Cool.
And in the words of Queen Lovie herself- (I felt) shiawase ne...