Me and Cheryl Cole: The Pathetic life of a Wannabe

Ok, so I kind of want to be Cheryl Cole. And yet I hate her. But she has exceptional hair. It’s complicated. I like to think this emotional confusion is common amongst the public in terms of their relationships with celebrities, if only so I don’t feel so pathetic. Mainly, I think it’s the combination of massive hair and stick thin legs that draw me to her like a moth to an extremely dangerous hair spray induced flame. Having what I can only assume is a small well groomed dog strapped to your head at all time can not be the most comfortable thing in the world, and we should admire her durability. She has the balance and posture of a Russian gymnast. Although I see Cheryl as a beautiful, shiny creation of the reality TV show era, my mum doesn’t share my views. She can often be found sitting in front of the telly muttering under her breath:‘no talent’, ‘too thin’, ‘awful song’ and such like. This could be explained by the fact that my dad, the man who seriously referred to Chezza as ‘a national treasure’, has made her watch the ‘Tangled Up Tour’ and ‘A Night in with Cheryl Cole’ several times.

Cheryl and her magnificent hair encapsulate what it is to be a celebrity in this day and age. Talent isn’t exactly at the top of the criteria, but skinny legs and a sad/disadvantaged background story are. Once you’ve got in a couple of good writers, banged out a hideously catchy tune like ‘Fight for This Love’ and done a bit of writhing around in a leotard, you’re well away and need only to wait for the call from Will.I.Am. I absolutely hated that song. When I heard it on the radio I thought that she had let it go to her head; that she thought she could go it alone without her fellow Girls Aloud members and that she had just failed spectacularly. Fast forward a week and I’m screaming when it comes on in a club, and dream of doing that standing to the side, foot stampy, head boppy dance move from the video.

Although she seems to make everyone like her, (despite that rather violent episode in a club toilet a while back that has been swiftly forgotten) I can’t help but think that maybe she’s not the best role model for young girls. Don’t get me wrong, my love is still strong, but we must remember that little girls out there don’t quite understand the amount of work that goes into looking like Chezza, and that really it’s not worth it. Imagine the time that goes into it all. Her rather varnished appearance and emaciated legs might seem like a good idea at the time, but ultimately I for one won’t give up popping down to the Co-op looking rough or snacking on a nice pastry. I shall continue to admire her polished looks, because frankly, I can’t be arsed.

As well as her fine head of hair, freakishly smooth face and excellent balance, I also have to admire Cheryl’s courageous attitude. I have to respect someone whose singing voice is similar to mine when I get on the karaoke after eight Malibu and cokes and yet unashamedly performs at large events to a paying audience. Most of the time she isn’t actually even singing. Clearly the pressure of the event and the strenuous dance routines makes this impractical, as well as the issue of not having Nadine around any more to drown her out. But her hair is still immaculate, her outfits obscenely tiny and she defies human biology by not expelling a bead of swear. This could be seen as infuriating and annoying, but if anything, it makes me love her more.