Move over Cinderella, here’s Meg’s fairy tale
As Duchess pens letter to US leaders, a royally entertaining re-write...
Dear Leader Charles Schumer and Speaker Nancy Pelosi — I’m not an elected official, not yet anyway. I’m not a politician either, but watch this space.
I am, like many, an engaged citizen and a plugged-in parent. I am also a Duchess, did I mention that? Check out the letterhead; Duke and D-U-C-H-e-S-S of Sussex. Duchess. rhymes with success. Don’t ever forget that.
I’m writing to you at this deeply important time — as a mom and an everyday global icon — to advocate for paid leave for parents. No family should have to choose between earning a living and having the freedom to take care of their child.
That is why everyone should try to marry into a royal Family if possible, complete with a fatherin-law who can be tapped for millions, in addition to the magnificent sums he has already bequeathed upon his son. Prince Charles can rest assured that Harry and I are putting the monies to good use.
Together we have rescued chickens and given fresh purpose to private jet pilots hanging around LaX with nothing to do. It means so much to the little people that we don’t have to fly commercial.
and I am personally keeping the Cashmere Weavers of Montecito in business. Throw another goat on the loom, dudes! I need another five-ply poncho to visit and inspire marginalised children in an inner-city ghetto with my saviour complex and luxury woollens.
LeT’S speak more of my truth. I started working (at the local frozen yoghurt shop) at the age of 13. It was there that I first discovered my deep love of culture. In addition, all those fro-yo flavours taught me about the beauty of diversity and how each flavour is unique and wonderful in its own way, just like human beings.
There’s Ginger Totally Nuts, the Flaky Waity Katy, the royal Sour Lemons Bombe and my favourite, Just Say It Belongs To The Stylist. The more flavours on offer in a yoghurt bar the stronger that bar is — like society, right?
Dining out? Thought you’d never ask. I grew up living on the $4.99 salad bar at Sizzler, a popular restaurant chain in California. Times were tough. Once they ran out of the broccoli and tomato mix with soy-lime dressing, and I cried for days.
That was back when I lived in Les Miserables, in the leaky wooden shack on the wrong side of the tracks that my father laughingly called a ‘home’. I used to sleep in flour sacks and I cleaned my dresses — some might call them ‘rags’ — on a washboard in the coldwater kitchen.
It is no secret that I was born in the wagon of a travelling show, Mama used to dance for the money they’d throw, Papa would do whatever he could ... no sorry, that’s Cher. I’m getting mixed up. I remember there was a church house, gin house. a school house, outhouse. On Highway Number Nineteen, where the people keep the city clean — no, wait! (Harry, have you been in my Cinderella File again? Idiot.)
all you have to know is that there’s a world outside your window and it’s a world of dread and fear, where the only water flowing is the . . . no hang on, where am I? I waited tables, babysat, and piecemealed jobs together to cover odds and ends. I worked all my life to make ends meet and to put gas in my car.
What has all this got to do with paid parental leave? absolutely nothing, but I’m not missing this opportunity to lend support to a popular cause while burnishing my victim credentials on an international stage.
To depict myself as a plucky ragamuffin, an Orphan annie who fought her way up from the crumbs on the breadline to the cherry on the cake. even though I went to private school and my father was an award-winning Hollywood lighting designer who provided for me generously. But let’s move on. Many of our economic systems are past their expiration date, but luckily not hereditary privilege nor inherited titles. Being a Duchess and having this access to you comes courtesy of an ancient european monarchy which I purport to despise, but continue to use to my advantage; to live off and exploit in the most ethical way possible. Like I said, I used to dine at an all-you-can-eat salad bar, so that makes it OK, right?
even those of us who live in mansions crammed with staff, gourmet kitchens and multiple nannies, can feel overwhelmed at the birth of a child and expansion of a family. That is why I am begging you to consider the paternity leave deals on offer in the land of Narnia, where birth-givers and their partners are given five years off on full pay until their children start school or marry a prince.
Listen. This isn’t about right or Left, it’s about right or wrong. It’s about putting families above politics, although I obviously don’t mean my own blood family, who don’t understand compassion in action like me.
So, on behalf of archie and Lili and Harry, I thank you for considering this letter and daring to dream a dream in time gone by, when hope was high and life worth living.
Vote for me. Thank you.