Hey Girrrl! Thought I’d try to catch you between pukes since you haven’t been responding to my texts, calls, and emails (you’re still firstname.lastname@example.org, correct?). Anyway, how lucky for you—my son’s first birthday was yesterday and I’ve been working on his annual review. So I’m in full critique mode, just brimming with unsolicited advice! And here I am to offer it to you, free of charge (though a couple of nights in Kensington Palace would be so helpful the next time The Husband and I visit London—you know how expensive those hotels can be!). YOU’RE WELCOME.
I was thrilled to hear the news of your pregnancy, if for no other reason than it means there’s someone else out there who will discover and complain about the misery of that blessed nine months. Also, it will be cool to see you gain weight, though I doubt any of it will go to your face (any MORE, at least…slow burn). Then there’s the thought of Harry throwing a kid in the air while you and Wills watch nervously nearby and, well, we’ve got a little party on our hands, don’t we?
I’m sure you’re receiving advice from countless people right now, but allow me to outshout all of them and provide the only help you’ll need. As stated, I have kept a child alive for one year and am therefore an expert on all progeny-related issues. So take a break from that trash TV you’re watching from your hospital bed (does Maury air in the Kingdom?) and listen up. Please. Your Highness.
1) Reveal the gender early on. This will save you from running into an Us Weekly troll picking through your trash for clues, or truckloads of green and yellow shit arriving at the palace daily. May as well get stuff you can USE, right? Also, it will save us all from the annoying girl at the office who insists on starting a gender betting pool. She smells bad and I don’t like talking to her.
2) Don’t let on once you’re feeling better from this hyperemsis gravidarum. That is, if the thing is real in the first place, and if not—good on you for coming up with a name for puking your guts out! Milk the nausea for all it’s worth. You won’t have to get off your ass for another few weeks, which will give you just a couple of months of obligations and bump shots before you’re big enough to return to the sedentary lifestyle pregnancy can afford.
3) Design a maternity line for posh women such as yourself who feel limited by today’s market of choices in pregnancy wear. Here in the States, all famous people design clothes without being qualified by talent, and they don’t have to do anything except have their picture taken once for the line. I’m thinking ermine robes, belly tiaras, you know—classy.
4) Speaking of famous Americans and their hobbies, write a book about your experience. Make it a tell-all that totally exposes the hospital staff for all their jealous looks and the possibility that they spat into your food. (For purposes of humor, I’ll avoid commentary on that nasty prank call incident.)
5) Have a few meltdowns. Let Wills know what he’s in for once this baby comes along and neither of you are sleeping. Lines like “I don’t even know if this baby is MINE!” and “Sex? Now? REALLY?!” are especially helpful.
6) Eat. Don’t stop eating. Now is the time to eat whatever you want and gain all the weight you want. Not only will you be making millions of women around the world feel more adequate, but you’ll also learn what cholesterol tastes like. And it is GOOD.
7) Talk to the baby. They say it can hear you, so he/she might as well get used to your voice. This kid will have an uphill climb if he/she doesn’t want to be a spoiled brat, so lower his/her expectations now. “You’re actually the mailman’s chlld” or “I can’t believe you don’t even know how to read yet” are great places to start. They made my son work that much harder.
8) Decorate your belly and expose it in public. This will totally shock and please all the people who think you’re an uptight rule-follower. Sure, the Queen will be pissed, but tell her she inspired you with her Olympics skydiving stunt. Draw word balloons on your skin as if the kid is talking, with phrases like “My mommy drinks too much” and “Every now and then a snake visits me”. Or just draw a face, hot-glue-gun a weave, and paint some blush on there in a self-portrait. Or you can make Wills can do THIS:
9) Sleep. Everyone says to sleep now because you won’t when the baby comes, but I’m talking about taking this to the next level. Make everyone around you uncomfortable by falling—or pretending to fall—asleep in every context possible. Standing up, even better. Meetings with heads of state? Pull a Bushand drop your head into your soup. Cocktail parties with diplomats? Crumble to the floor loudly and suck your thumb. It will get you out of all those pesky obligations and will force people to stop inviting you to parties where you can’t drink anyway. LAME.
10) Carry a bottle of water around and when anyone bugs you or makes you wait, open it and let some splash on the floor and yell, “My water just broke!” Sure, it’s a cheap parlor trick, but before anyone realizes you’re only four months along when you pull it, you’ll be skipping ahead of them and rising up in the London Eye, giving them all the finger. What? What’s that? Oh, you don’t have to wait in lines and you never ride the London Eye? Then go to hell. If you didn’t need my advice, you shouldn’t have asked.