Pearls Before Swine

 So yesterday, I was traveling around in Kate Middleton's matchy matchy coat.  That's what fiction writers get to do. We put ourselves in someone else's shoes--in this case someone else's COAT 'cause I'm not good with spike heels on cobblestones--and have a look around.  

I was thinking about pearls and Karl Lagerfield and the Met thingey.  My first question is why any woman would allow a man who hates women (Karl Lagerfield) to dress them, much less why would women celebrate him? Second question: what's with all those stupid pearls?  

See, Kate doesn't wear pearls.  She has SERIOUS jewels, one of which would put a family of four on easy street for the rest of their lives. 

I'm not criticizing her. Not in the least. I mean, great earrings, tiaras etc.  Even the matchy matchy coats!  I wouldn't mind some of those cast offs.  (Keep the hats, though.) And how can you not admire that stiff upper lip and those 6 inch heels?  On pointe. Never teeters. That smile. Always on.  

I see some holes in the fabric of her life, though.  

Like, who the hell is William anyway?  I don't think I've ever heard him say a word.  Her either for that matter. But they laugh together. I know that because their lives are well documented.  Something's amusing, they're always laughing at....something that I'm pretty sure I would find perplexing.  

But no voice. What does she think about, that princess with no voice with the husband with no voice? What do they talk about after they put the kids to bed and put their feet up to read in front of the fire? 

What priceless jewel am I going to wear tomorrow, dear? No, that's snarky. She wouldn't say that.  Probably, nice charity event today, dear.  You, too!  You shook a million hands! Don't forget to wash.  Because it was a CHARITY event after all, and you know those unwashed masses with their teeming and yearning. 

I guess that's the part that galls me.  I see the number of charity events that each of the royals bless with their presence and I don't think, wow how marvelous of them taking their impeccably groomed selves to mix it up with poor unfortunates. I think, what's wrong with a system that needs literally thousands of charity events to shore up its citizens?  Not to get all commie, but isn't something wrong with the distribution of wealth that so many people depend on the kindness of strangers?

Why doesn't it gall Kate? 

And now, she's being promoted to Next In Line. 

I hope someone gifts her some potent mushrooms on coronation day.

Maybe she'd rip off her million dollar necklace and toss it into the crowd. Pearl earrings too! Next off, those glass slippers.  Pitch 'em, baby!  Leave 'em for Cinderella's sisters. Gather her kids in her arms (although I think it's too late for Georgey, look at his expression, he's a towel snapper) and run as fast and far as she can in the direction of a meaningful life. 

I can feel the cobblestones on my bare feet.  The freedom of not carrying centuries of jewels on my head and my neck and through my ears. Jesus, I didn't know I could run this fast.  OMG! The spell has worn off and I'm turning into....whaaaaaa?  Oh, no. 

At least, that's how my novel starts.