By Karen Middleton
By now, my readers are probably wondering why I haven’t written a “William (whatever his last name) and Kate Middleton Getting Married” column.
Well, I’ve wanted to stay low-key so I wouldn’t offend the Royals and risk getting crossed off the invitation list. So … anyway, the invitation has never arrived.
And then I started thinking back to a few months ago when I wrote that scathing column about how I knew things were getting serious between Wills and Kate when she started appearing in public wearing “stupid looking hats.”
The information age being what it is, I’m sure it got back to them and that’s the reason my invitation has never arrived. Otherwise, I would be showing up in a very smart and wonderful hat just like those the Royals wear and sit on the bride’s side of the aisle in Westminster Abbey with all the rest of us Middletons.
So, I’ve been doing the next best thing and tuning in to all things William and Kate on TV, and by now you know that’s a lot of stuff. I found a movie, “William and Kate,” on Lifetime Channel that I found interesting.
I was especially interested in the part where a starchy and all together proper middle-aged woman was hired to whip Kate into Royal shape. Although one never knows what liberties the scriptwriter took with the truth, the movie showed tabloid photos of Kate exiting autos, and being the commoner that she is, inadvertently flashing too much inner thigh.
In the movie, Kate’s coach solicits confirmation from her that she does indeed “wear undergarments,” unlike the current practice of some of her generation.
And I will have to say this is a legitimate concern. If you’ll remember back about three years ago while Britney Spears was in the midst of her meltdown, she was photographed exiting the back seat of an auto during a night on the town sans panties and paparazzi captured the widely circulated shot.
It would not do for the future Queen Catherine of the United Kingdom to “go commando.” Although, according to Cosmo, this is not a new practice.
The mag says that some of history’s hottest sex goddesses, such as Cleopatra and Jean Harlow, reportedly went “au naturel” beneath their clothes.
The trick, according to Kate’s coach, is to keep one’s knees firmly together, simultaneously swinging the legs as one inseparable unit from the auto and planting the feet firmly on the pavement.
So anyway, back to hats. My good friend Thelma purchased a smart hat for Easter, and should my invitation to the wedding — after somehow having been discovered to have been wedged in a crack between a sorting table and a file cabinet at the Elkmont Post Office — arrive in time for me to snag a flight to London, Thelma says she’ll lend me her new hat.
Barring that, I haven’t decided if I can haul myself out of bed by 3 a.m. Friday — not only hatless but hair spiking in unruly directions — to see Kate immerge from her limo in real time.
However, should I roll over and turn off the alarm like I usually do, I’m sure I’ll catch the replays.