Some day my Prince will come…

28 Apr

When I was little I never wanted to marry a Prince. I was more fascinated by the notion of being a Princess myself and falling in love with a stable boy, or a fruit thief… like in Aladdin! I’m not sure why I always reversed the roles in my head like that; maybe it just seemed more exciting that way. It definitely always seemed more romantic.

I’m not sure what I’d do if I was Kate Middleton right now. What must be going through her head as she prepares for one of the biggest, most important weddings the world has ever seen? Seems like she’s come an awfully long way to get to where she’s standing now, probably looking at her face in the mirror, terrified that come tomorrow she’ll be even more of a national treasure, the envy of every little girl who ever wanted to marry her handsome Prince but wasn’t lucky enough to get their mummy and daddy to send them to the right college.

She must be so nervous. But I think she’s gorgeous and dignified and no one can deny that she’s totally in love with William, so I’m sure things will work out absolutely fine and they’ll be blissfully happy ever after. I’m a sucker for a good love story, it’s true, but theirs really is one of the greatest to ever have not been written, isn’t it? It’s such a shame that William is balding, though.

It’s true! I keep looking at his receding hairline in all these photos, yet hardly anyone ever mentions it. I wonder if Kate has to give him special massages with various potions in order to slow the process. Maybe she’s the only one with the magic recipe and that’s why he has to marry her – like in Tangled, when Rapunzel’s magical, golden hair was the key to her faux-mother’s eternal youth. I wonder if Kate will eventually be the one to sew his hairpiece to his scalp, when surgeons refuse for fear of hurting the future king. I wonder…

Of course, if you love someone, the fact that they’re losing their hair isn’t really such a big deal. Besides, it’s cold in England, and Wills goes skiing an awful lot too, so he gets to wear hats. Sure he’s living a bit of a lie, but it’s no different to when girls get fake nails stuck over their real ones. And maybe Kate secretly likes baldies. Maybe the reason they broke up before was not because the press kept hounding her and Wills kept ignoring her at parties in favour of super rich, international Princesses of mystery, as opposed to Kate, whose mum and dad have a party store and blow up balloons all day… but because he threatened to sport a comb-over, instead of letting it all fall out gracefully.

I secretly liked watching the TV movie about how they met and fell in love last night. It brought back all my fantasies about doing what William’s done – rescuing a mere civilian from a life of tedium and whisking them up into a mad, mad world of magic carpets and golden towers and corgis and crowns, and all the other things involved in a royal fairy tale. (I’ve seen so many movies, I can’t quite tell what’s real and what’s not anymore).

Granted, my life is not that exciting, but I still think that when you find your Prince, everything becomes exciting. Shopping for carpets together becomes as good as riding one through the sky used to seem in your head; and it’s not so much a case of who saved who from a life that may have seemed monotonous and unfulfilling, but a case of saving each other without ever realising it.

I’m hosting a party tomorrow night, so we can all watch the wedding together and shed a tear for the lives we’ll never lead. But I’ll leave the window open for the apple seller/fruit thief/stable boy to reach me if he happens to be passing by. I suppose there’s still time for us all to find our Prince… right?

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