I guess you’ve heard – a Princess has been born! I heard the news late last night and got very excited. We had had visitors for dinner earlier that evening and while the men sat around talking about… I dunno… exhaust pipes and hammers, we women were talking about the Duchess of Cambridge being in labour…and when will the baby be born…and what gender will it be… and what name will they call it etc etc. I’m a fan of the royals. I made a night of watching the royal wedding with my then 5 year old daughter. I was excited at the birth of Prince George and glued myself to the couch to watch Sunrise that morning as they replayed the exact same footage on a loop for about 5 hours. I can’t get enough. It is a fascination with the lives of those beautiful people… a window we can peak through into the whole other alluring world of the Royals.
My friend and I both agreed that Princess Kate is extremely stunning specimen of womanhood. Although born a commoner, she seems every bit the royal now, exuding excessive levels grace, beauty and style wherever she goes. But as much as I love the royals and Kate herself, how does it make us feel when she pops out onto the hospital steps a few hours after the birth in a cute yellow number looking like she could take to the runway? Far out! What is in the water that girl is drinking and where can I get some? Yes I’m sure she had a hair and make up team working on her, and a rack full of designer dresses to choose from, but still – come on! She had just gone through hours of labour and then pushed a baby out her hoohoo. It seems almost criminal to look that good!
My own birthing experience was quite different. It is, in fact, another story for another time. But to sum up, it was about 38 hours of excruciating labour, a posterior baby who was determined to reside in my uterus for the duration of her existence, resulted in an emergency caesarean and finished off with a general anaesthetic as the cherry on top. Not exactly text book. There is a photo of me just after I have woken from my general. I have been brought back into my room and am holding a new baby girl and I look….well… a fright. My face was extremely swollen from pregnancy fluid retention, I was exhausted after losing 2 nights sleep, completely traumatised from an experience I can only imagine being similar to torture and my ‘bed hair’ was classic – classically hideous. I couldn’t stand up and would have been in no way ready to have my face or any other body part being seen by a curious and gaping world.
But I guess that is the reason that Kate is royal and I am not. Fear not though. I am happy for her. I don’t deny or envy her her amazing looks, lustrously tamed hair, slim figure throughout pregnancy & beyond and a gorgeous little prince & now princess in her nursery. No – I would rather be able to sail through life as a commoner – wearing converse & jeans, drinking a beer, and not being concerned with flashing anyone when removing myself from a vehicle. I think it’s a very fair trade.
Kate – I genuinely wish you health, joy and happiness with your baby Princess. But I might also wish you a little less of a thigh gap.
Carried Away 