Finally. A Place To Express Myself Privately.

This "Official Portrait" has prompted me to use my voice.  I'm quite sure no one will read these words, so I feel secure knowing I can purge my entire dinner self of thoughts and feelings that I clearly am not able to speak aloud.

Firstly, REALLY? Is this how they see my visage--or is it how they WISH I looked? I prefer to think the latter, but I'm stuck having to publicly gush over this horrid mess.  Those Women (The Queen and That Camilla, heretofore referred to as THOSE WOMEN) were clearly in cahoots one drunken evening and plotted to have the "artist" (??) create some sort of pinched, aging and smirking face for me to pull--and in that bloody blue bargain basement dress again.  

Secondly, I may very well be With Royal Child, but I do not have a lazy eye. How dare Those Women.

I need some toffee pudding.