Of princes and princesses


I don't even know why I'm writing this. I guess because I'm obsessed. 

 Today in my feed, this ridiculous story about Meghan Markle popped up. Go ahead and read it. I'll wait. 

 First of all, how does Thanksgiving offend the British? The whole article is pointless right from the start. They just want to put her out there yet again. Because, well, she's adorable. Actually, they're both adorable. 

 Confession time. I've been obsessed with the newest royal couple since, well, since they've been a couple. Luckily for me, my Yahoo! feed sends me these stupid stories every day. Yes, every damn day. 

 One thing about me is I'm a bit of a dreamer. Maybe you've noticed. I like thinking that princes and princesses actually exist and they're blissfully happy in their snappy clothes as they attend every dinner, event, appearance, and wedding in the UK. I mean, do they ever sit down? All they do is go to a never-ending stream of events. It's so fabulous. 

 Hell, I even know that Meghan's real first name is Rachel. That's how immersed in this stuff I am. I know she baked banana bread with ginger and chocolate chips in it. That story is here. Am I the only one who got the symbolism of the ginger and chocolate together in something she baked? In an oven? She's pregnant — hello! Now think of what this kid might look like. Brilliant, that Meghan. 

 Seriously, though, this couple is adorable. The stories are fluff pieces, sure, but in this age of poisonous news coverage and social media that reads like a bathroom stall, this is what I want. No, this is what I need. And we won't even talk about my life. Let's talk about princes and princesses (or duchesses, whichever the case may be). Thank you. 

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