Anticipation to the Max

I am gearing up for the Royal Wedding tomorrow morning. I can’t help it—I am excited. As previously written about, I am a bit of a Royal-ite, and now the day is upon us.

 

Tomorrow, in the dark and early hours of the morning, I will get up and bake the scones that I am in charge of bringing to the party I am attending. I am going to try to shower so that I don’t look so hideous in the photos that will undoubtedly be taken and posted to every social media site around. I am also going to wear my pretty beaded headband—kind of a nod to Kate’s fascinators of late.

 

I am meeting with six friends for this “wedding of the century.” Are they forgetting that this couple will no doubt have children who will get married during this century, and those weddings will undoubtedly also be grand? But I digress.

 

I hope I don’t cry, but I imagine I will. I, like the other 2 billion who will be watching, can not wait to see what she is going to wear. It’s hard not to feel green with envy at Kate’s exquisite figure, and I imagine she would look incredible in a flour sack. I feel quite confident that we can assume she won’t be wearing a flour sack, but what will it be?

 

I have, at times, in these weeks tried to imagine what she must be thinking. Some people I know view her as a lamb to the slaughter; others see it as absolute romance. Some feel that the Royals contribute greatly to the world; others think they are a blight on the English taxation system. I am somewhere in the middle of all of this.

 

It’s easy to ignore that these are two real people who have jobs and lives and hopes and dreams, and that, in ways that are so different from ours as to seem impossible to find a comparison, they will have disappointments just like the rest of us.

 

I have always had vague, lingering worries that my child could be abducted, but never have I had to worry that my child would be taken for the press of it.

 

I have been able to go to the grocery store in my slippers and the world has not cared or commented on it.

 

I have not prayed that my husband will not follow the crazy path of his parents and the eccentric journey of generations of his family.

 

While I try to look good, my every added pound has not caused speculation as to whether I am producing not only the heir but also the spare.

 

Tomorrow will, no doubt, be glorious; she will look radiant. The music will be incredible, and the footage will be like a fairy-tale.  I’ll be there watching with bated breath and crossed fingers for their longterm happiness.