Because nearly every blogger worth her salt has written about the Royal Wedding, I thought I’d chime in too. I mean, why not, right?
Oh? Because you’re over it already?
Well, that was fast.
Here’s my deal about this whole thing.
It chaps my assets that every available network and the Weather Channel (yes, them too) spent weeks plugging this thing like it was the second coming of Christ Himself, focusing on inane details about the day that, in the grand scheme of things, no one needs to know or care about.
Like the fact that Ye Royal Bootshiner shined William’s boots for THREE HOURS to get them shiny enough for the big day.
(Three hours? Really? And no one but me sees any sort of ridiculousness in that?)
Had they focused on promoting this as the historical event it was instead of a fashion circus, I think I would’ve been more inclined to get excited.
Why did we need to know who designed
Martha Stewart’s Camilla Parker Bowles’ dress? I half expected the commentary about this wedding to be coming from Joan and Melissa Rivers instead of whomever it was I listened to on the television.
You know how women get the post-wedding blues? Maybe the media should’ve let the wedding take place (on air) and then spent the following two weeks talking about the details instead of giving us the milk before the cow. Or some other metaphor that makes more sense than that one.
But even with that approach, I’m tired of people, royals included, spending so much time focusing on one day and not worrying about spending the rest of eternity together.
Marriage is hard, y’all. And no amount of designer attire will make it any easier.
Was it a beautiful wedding? Absolutely.
Was it touching and sweet? Most definitely.
Do I wish them all of the happiness two people can have in a lifetime? You bet your biscuits.
But I might also be a smidge jealous that I’m not a princess. Maybe.