Tara Ward heads to the big apple with Our Rachel and a butt-tightening machine in Rachel Hunter’s Tour of Beauty.
Welcome to New York, the city that never sleeps, the city filled with bright lights and naked cowboys. It’s here that Rachel Hunter kicked off her second series of Tour of Beauty, a place filled with more modelling memories for Our Rach than a VW convertible stuffed with half melted Trumpets.
Series two of Tour of Beauty sees Rachel hammering her truth peg into the wild Americas, leaving no pimple unpopped in her search for beauty. “Follow me,” our intrepid guide seems to say. “This way to the electric butt tightening session,” with a cheeky wink that literally stops traffic.
Wait, is this why cars never stop for me at pedestrian crossings? Is my wink game not strong enough? I’ll try it out tomorrow on the school run, but now it’s time to step onto the curb of life and take a bite out of Rachel’s Big Apple. Fruit is beautiful, and so is meat, so I rejoiced when I saw Rach’s endorsement of my current diet, aka stodge.
‘Tis indeed a diet of champions and I am 100% here for it 24/7, 365/365 or whatever other beautiful numbers Rach wants to fling at me like they’re chunks of the radioactive Greek facial mud from season one.
But first, the New York butt facial. Rachel discovered the perfect workout: lying down (probably on a soft bed of corn beef cabbage) while a machine tightened her arse cheeks. It’s a procedure endorsed by a doctor who also recommends stealing your blood, chucking it into a kitchen whizz and injecting a bloody shitload of sexual well-being back into your bits and pieces.
Back off, Smoothie Man. I’m too busy imagining lying on a bed of soggy vegetables while my arse is electrocuted for shits and giggles, there’s only so much wellbeing in one day that I can handle.
Luckily if ye olde butt facial doesn’t give you buns of steel, true beauty can also be found by squeezing into a g-string leotard and pointing your legs in the air. Shape up, ship out, stink up the house with the aftermath of all that boiled cabbage.
The trauma of the bum workout made both Rachel and me hungry, so she met up with old mate Carol Alt for some delicious raw food. Carol reckoned food makes you beautiful, and I agreed because I’d just inhaled a large packet of salt and vinegar chips. “You gotta go back to God,” Carol said, as they devoured what looked like a sandwich made of wet cardboard. I opened the fridge. God wasn’t in there, so I ate five chocolate biscuits and decided he must be at the supermarket.
Next, we learned the New York fashion world has moved on from the giddy days when Rachel graced the cover of a timeless VHS exercise workout. Today, a diverse mix of women offer alternatives to traditional ideas of beauty, challenging stereotypes and championing body positivity. Nobody’s ‘naturally’ beautiful anymore (um what about corned beef, never change), social media influence is crucial and perfect doesn’t exist.
This is bloody great news, but I’m distracted by the missing gleam from my eye. Carol reckoned if you lose the gleam in your eye, it’s over. O-V-E-R. Excuse me while I rage against the dying of the light, Carol. Surely there’s a machine I can hook up to and increase my gleam? Maybe that’s what Smoothie Man is injecting into people: a shit-ton of gleam.
Tour of Beauty was gleamy, dreamy, and a little bit streamy. It was a glorious mix of Rachel Hunter in an unruly rowboat, coleslaw sandwiches and one naked cowboy. Or, like us beautiful people say: winner, winner, cabbage dinner.
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