Kate has proved it, commoners can become royals. You can count me in the princess crowd.
I am destined to a Prince, a real blue-blooded crown-headed prince. He will come along and we will have a wonderful wedding like William and Kate just had (with the exception of Pippa; no fine @ss to steal the show from me on my wedding day). This is no fairytale, these things really happen. Don’t think of the damsel in distress cliché, I am talking about real women that have the guts to face the fishbowl of royal life, the public eye and tabloids, and the unenviable duties that come with it (as well as the money and material wealth). Princess-hood is no piece of cake. I am indeed a natural born princess.
Thus established, let’s find my prince. Browsing royal bachelors I have recognised him at first sight: Prince Carl Philip of Sweden (I mean, have you seen him? he is f**king hot! and the others are too young anyway…). Perfect, I have a prince, now let’s get ready for my royal future. It is necessary to work hard in order to reach the princess status (no, he doesn’t know yet, but he will find out soon, he will be struck at first sight, exactly like me).
I have recently taken on Swedish classes to prepare for my future as princess of Sweden (shame on him he is not the crown prince, I would have made a perfect queen). I am also practicing my hand waving, as being a royal involves a lot of waving to the crowds from the balcony. Arm doesn’t move, wrist swifts softly, hands waves princessly. I am practicing my walk too, as it has to look like I am floating, floating through the courtyard of my palace. I am also working to refine my ribbon cutting technique. What’s left? Oh yes, I suppose I will have to start to mingle in the right circles and be with the right people… well, I know some Swedes, that should be fine.
I am ready to be scrutinized and defeat all other princess-hood aspirants. Carl Philip, brace yourself, here I come!
[what’s the cheapest airline to fly to Sweden?]