They ( the Royals), I might mention, have never given me or anyone like me, a thought let alone been obsessed with what I wear, whom I marry or my facial expressions. "Poor Them" - as my Brit friends might say.
As an only child in Brooklyn I dreamed of being a Princess - and not just any Princess, but one with POWER. In my small bedroom, its only window facing over ugly rooftops with the magic of Manhattan out of reach, I fantasized about giving wonderful gifts, meting out delicious punishments ( to nasty little playmates, horrid teachers and elderly relatives), and thought a lot about what my wardrobe would be.
I followed the lives of Elizabeth ( Lillibet) and Margaret Rose ( the unlucky one). How brave they were to have stayed in Buckingham Palace during the bombing - with only a skeleton staff to heat up the tinned beans.
When Diana came upon the scene I devoured every word and photo much as she devoured everything and then vomited. I even envied her Bulemia! I tried a few times to stick a manicured finger down my throat, but my fattening treats sadly stayed down.
How ROYAL of her to be able to throw up her rice puddings and still look amazing. I hear the breath wasn't great, though.
When she died, I was genuinely heartbroken, and watched every second of the TV coverage much as I had followed the Kennedy assasination moment by moment.
So, naturally I woke up at 3 AM this past Friday to watch Kate ( daughter of a party planning family actually less classy than my own family, albeit far richer) marry William: A funny looking balding young man who didn't even stand up straight in church. His brother's kinda cute, though, wonder who HIS dad was?
Her dress was gorgeous, she was rather gorgeous ( her sister is a piece of work, isn't she?) and yet, and yet - there was so little passion - the Queen cannot get a smile going, Princess Ann ( always the least attractive Royal) looked like she smelled something unpleasant, and Prince Andrew's daughters looked positively terrifying. Doesn't anyone tell them to look in a mirror before they go out. Is it a joke played by Philip Treacy on these sad, homely girls to put them in the most ghastly hats ever imagined? Did no one say ' Beatrice, "that hat looks like a spider surounding a vagina)"? Apparently not.
The whole thing is absurd, isn't it? The carriages, the courtseying, the sheer anachronistic crap of it all.
So, I lay in my Queen sized bed, and watched the whole thing. watched these people who run the Church of England not able to recall the words to the hymns, watched the inability of the Royal Groom to actually LOOK at his bride or touch her in any meaningful way - and I thought:
I AM FREE AT LAST"
These silly, absurdly rich people are horrible, entitled and living off the backs of poor people in England who got to have a whole day off and sit around drinking beer and waving paper Union Jacks during the proceedings. Bread and circuses is what it is and always was.
My favorite thing was the rather unattractive bridesmaid child who kept her hands over her ears - better her hands over her eyes).
My least favorite thing was the extraordinarily passionless kiss. Now I certainly didn't expect them to make out in a major way on the balcony ( that would have been as bad as the kiss with no touching ), but, God, William, put an arm around the girl - she's lost so much weight to marry you - at least hold her up a little bit.
So off they go back to wherever it is in Wales they live whilst he ' flies helicoptors" to await the Royal honeymoon, and we shall soon see her looking perfect every day and then, soon too, perfectly pregnant.
I'll just take a nice dowager house somewhere on one of the estates and a simple staff of a cook, housekeeper, dresser ( oh yes - a dresser -absolutely), private secretary and a lady in waiting ( what are they waiting for anyway?) and , as long as they don't interrupt my naps, I'll open the odd hospital or launch the random yacht.
But I am so over it. Can you not tell?
Good Luck Kids -Don't worry too much about the budget - things will work out. You'll never have to apply for a mortgage or lease a car or pay a bill. Poor babies.
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