I look at the whitened teeth, the LA makeup, the dress better suited to a business lunch in Beverly Hills, and I remember the engagement ring being re-set, the $56k engagement dress, the baby shower, the Clooneys and Oprah at her wedding, the empty radius around her at Wimbledon.
I look at the modest jewelry, the mismatching and scraggly ponytail, the lack of hosiery and I remember the genuine warmth towards the women at The Hub, the Smartworks initiative, the dogs who have followed her throughout.
I think she gave it a go, but couldn’t make it bend to her will so she cut and run to where carrots are being dangled in front of her nose. Harry, desperate for a way out, a rich playboy with no purpose in life, gladly followed.
They’re united in wanting to leave, united in their vision for their future, united by their son. Good luck to them.
But not on the British taxpayer’s dime. They want out, they can have it. But out means out. We all have to suffer the consequences of our actions, every single one of us.