
She is one tall drink of flavorless Ensure.

There is a small part of me that thinks it's possible she is pregnant, and thus: the layers. There is another larger part of me that thinks she woke up and decided to dress the way she feels: like a depressed sister-wife doomed to endlessly wander the prairie.

I would seriously just like to pull aside the person in charge of laying out Charlene's wardrobe for public events and just SHAKE THEM. Um, I mean, just speak to them calmly about how, despite what everyone in Monaco seems to think, THIS COLOR IS TERRIBLE ON HER WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU SHE MIGHT BE STUCK IN A WEIRD MARRIAGE THE LIKES OF WHICH IS A JUDITH KRANTZ NOVEL WAITING TO HAPPEN BUT SHE COULD STILL LOOK FANTASTIC. Look at Princess Diana, after all. Obviously, true love is best, but if you can't have that, at least you can have a glorious wardrobe full of pretty things that make you feel better and into which you can occasionally crawl for respite from the emotional pain.

"AND THEN THE DINOSAUR ATE HIM. I mean, just in my most fevered fantas -- NIGHTMARES. Of course, I mean nightmares."
