Dear Kate Middleton’s Hair,
I know it’s kind of awkward to write you a letter, because, well, you’re hair and I’m not even sure that you know how to read, but I really need to talk to you. I would have called, but I don’t know the number for your direct line.
Every time I see you, KMH, you look good. Not just good, but breathtakingly good. You are thick and lustrous and shiny and styled into artfully cascading curls. If there was a contest for Best Hair In The World, you would win it every day. Maybe the hair of Blake Lively or Beyonce or Zac Efron would challenge you every once in a while and the World Hair Judges would pretend to deliberate. But ultimately every other head of hair in the world is the Justin Guarini to your Kelly Clarkson–there’s just no contest. So here’s my question: how do you look that good all of the time?
I understand that there is probably a team of people working round the clock to maintain you. I would actually not be surprised to hear that you employ separate experts to shampoo, condition, blowdry, curl, and hairspray you, and that their combined salaries are equal to the GDP of a small country. Princess hair is very important, after all. You are a national treasure just as Celine Dion’s vocal cords are to Canada and the distant memory of Tom Cruise’s sanity is to America.
I get that you need to look good, and you have the best resources to make you look good. But, like, hasn’t there ever been a time when Britain’s Top Hairsprayer got food poisoning and you were forced to attend an event with a few flyaways? Or maybe a little grease at the roots? Have you ever heard of the phenomenon known as a “bad hair day”? The reason I ask is because my hair is starting to feel inferior. And I don’t like it when my hair feels inferior because then my cowlick acts up.
It prefers to stick straight up in the air instead.
Really, KMH, I envy you, but I’m wondering if showing a little vulnerability might help you relate to the hair of the common man. I know my hair would appreciate it.