Dear Princess Kate,
Yesterday you strutted out of Lindo Wing at St. Mary’s Hospital in London looking like you were ready for an audience with The Queen (which is probably exactly what you were ready for, now that I think about it). Holding your newborn baby and with a smile that would make ovaries around the world explode as you looked down at your healthy baby, tucked safe in your arms. You looked perfect, standing there next to your dashing royal husband (also, my entire generation of women have imagined being his wife at some point). You are the epitome of grace and beauty, yet I cannot help but feel a little sorry for you.
I am sorry that during your pregnancy, you had the whole world watching and giving their opinion on how much weight you lost, gained, what you ate, what you wore, what you did or didn’t do. Your “maternity style” was better documented than New York Fashion Week, your baby’s gender and name the topic of many debates. Of course, what would a beautiful and innocent baby announcement be without the media adding some dramatic flair? What is a pregnancy without sibling comparison, comparison to your larger-than-life late mother-in-law (whose style you apparently constantly copy) and a few royal rules and regulations that you just cannot seem to follow (GO REBEL GIRL!).
Yesterday, as the news broke that your beautiful baby boy was born along with a perfect photo of you in a red Jenny Packham dress (which is obviously straight from Princess Di’s lookbook… and yes, that was one of the first headlines around the birth announcement that was circulated), my feed was flooded with women asking how you looked so damn good a mere 7-hours after giving birth and how it is possible for one person to be so perfect. I looked at you and I felt sorry for you.
We go into labour, head to the hospital and we are surrounded my loved ones while we bring a little miracle into this world. We then (depending on circumstances) get to focus all our attention on that precious little being… nothing else matters and nothing else exists for the rest of that day. We drift in and out of sleep while our husbands bring us tea and junk food, propping up our pillows and avoiding asking us what our vaginas looked like now. You went into labour and your personal stylist arrived before the baby was even born.
1-hour getting you cleaned up and washed (you deffos washed your hair, and you have a lot of hair. Also, you must have been in pain so I am assuming you moved slowly)
1-hour deciding on the final outfit, making sure it fitted right, getting dressed and princess ready
2-hours hair and make-up
So that leaves us with 3-hours. I am assuming you had 3-hours to realize you just had a baby, to recover, to cuddle, to feed, to be with your husband, to rest and get a bit of privacy. And then you did what every sane mother would do that had just given birth and put on a pair of nude suede heels. A freakin’ warrior, but shame man.
You strutted down those steps with those high heels on, probably feeling all kinds of post-birth pain and most likely wanting nothing more than to change out of your mesh disposable panty, grab an ice pack and sleep for the remainder of the day. Your feet aren’t even swollen… how did you do it? Did you even want to do it? Did they make you? Use the code word “unicorn” in your next interview and we will come to your rescue.
You look beautiful, and happy… but I am sorry that this time can’t be a private, personal joy. I am sorry you felt the pressure to look that perfect, because it clearly was not effortless.
Then again, you are heading to a palace and can go cry into your mountain of money and crown jewels while I sit here writing a letter to you that you would never ever read. So you are probably doing just fine.
Regardless, big fan. Congratulations on the birth of your baby boy. Rock on.
Added: So Kate is a Duchess, not a princess…. but princess sounds nicer so I am just going to stick with that. You know what I mean!