Carol: Tempest in a Bra Cup?
With all the serious stuff happening in the election and in the world, I hesitated to write about the infamous topless pictures of Kate Middleton. For one thing, I really like her — she never goes out in public without a smile on her face. It was, perhaps, smart of Prince William to marry a woman who had grown up outside the royal circle . . . you actually get the feeling that she genuinely appreciates the enormous privileges that come along with her new role.
All that being said — and noting for the record such invasions of privacy are detestable and wrong — I’m just wondering why she felt compelled to sun bathe, outside, without a top on. Granted, I’m not a duchess . . . and I certainly don’t look as good as she does in my swimsuit. But I do have a very secluded back yard. Even so, I just would never take my top off, even if I were convinced I was alone on the property. Who knows if a delivery man or goodness-knows-whom is going to pop in unexpectedly?! Is it really worth the risk of the total embarrassment it would cause for all involved?
That’s my calculus, and I haven’t even spent a serious portion of my life being the focus of the paparazzi. She has, and knows how freaky-stalkerish they can be. I’m not blaming the victim . . . but for future reference, perhaps the Duchess of Cambridge’s “expectation of privacy” should be that she has virtually none.
