* STOP *
Are you trying to bore people to death here?
Scroll down to read all about me.
The star of the show.
Let’s face it, the rest of this site ( and universe) is not as interesting as me.
(Especially when I write it myself)
It’s your big day and I know you truly, truly believe in your heart of hearts that it’s all about you.
Well, I’m here to tell you you are almost right. You see, it’s also actually all about me and how I can use my fabulous personality and curvy bod to make sure you and your guests have the biggest ever smiles on their faces and never ever ever forget the day. Ever.
I’ll be there for you when you take the heavenly ride to your wedding venue, when you both ride to the reception, when you need your guests to smile even broader, when you need a bat shit crazy photo booth in the evening.
It’s what I call a ‘Wedding Car Experience’
Great question! Like most of the things I do, I made it up. When dad demanded that I go out to work and earn a living I was a bit taken aback. According to all the magazines that I subscribed to (on dad’s credit cards), my life should not entail working. I explained to him that my ‘job’ (if he wanted to call it that) was to sit at home and in spas working on my beauty and planning my wedding to the lucky man who proposed to me.
I have to say that my dad’s reply took me by surprise. I didn’t know he could use such words. I won’t repeat them so as to not hurt your sensibilities but they included things like “indulgent”, “pampering”, “cleaning”, “cooking”, “washing”, “vacuuming”, “household chores” and “lazy arse”.
He asked me what I wanted to do and I was honest in saying that I wanted to be a great actor or a fashion guru or a model or an INSTA star. But preferably all of them. … and only till I was married to a rich man who could then earn money so that I didn’t have to burn myself out like this. My dad reacted unexpectedly to this.
When things had finally quieted down, my dad told me that he wanted me to go to work as a wedding car. A wedding car! Now embarrassing!
Well, I’ll tell you one thing, right. There was no way that I was going to be one of THOSE wedding cars. You know the ones. The snooty expensive, better than you, stick up their tailpipe cars. Huge German, American or British fuel guzzlers that destroyed the planet everywhere they went. Or those really annoying old timers who belched out smoke and always had a faint smell of oil around them.
Oh, and their drivers were so boring. They normally turned up looking that they were on day release from their main job as an undertaker and couldn’t be bothered to come out of their permanent and terminal grump.
So, with no help from my dad, I met my friends at a local spa for almost a month (paid for with my dad’s credit card) and between us – but mainly me – created the Wedding Car Experience.
Smiling people are spreading the news. I do between 20 and 30 a year now. All over the country and even (once) in Spain.
Dad wants me to do all that I am invited to but, well, I’ll consider your invitation if you are fun, loveable, super smiley and have your besties there. Otherwise, “nah” – this girl has an insta reputation to keep up.
Then there’s the matter of all the peeps chasing me and putting dates in my diary… so call soon.
Love, Tara xx