Yes, I must admit, I love following British royalty.

There is just something about the pomp and circumstance. The idea that there really is a queen somewhere who waves to her people and wears really, really amazing jewelry, even when her suits and shoes are orthopedic in nature. Hmm, maybe that is why I relate to the queen?

In any event, when I was a young girl, I watched all of the Diana and Charles wedding specials, all those years ago. After all, if Diana found her prince, I could find mine one day, right? Who cares if finding mine involved kissing way too many frogs? It was all so beautiful and glamorous. Romance was in the air. The innocent kindergarten teacher and the not-really-handsome-but-definitely-a-prince.

Yup, I even watched the wedding. I think. Or at least I read several People magazines that had lots of pictures of the wedding. And who could forget the dress? The bows and the puffiness and the miles and miles and miles of train….even this tomboy was in love with it. But realistically, she knew that it wasn’t going to be the figure flattering ensemble that she would wear one day to her own wedding. (Yes, I just spoke of myself in third person, probably because I would look like three people were wearing one dress…but enough of the self-deprecation.)

So you had the fairy-tale wedding, the horse and carriage, the royal kiss on the balcony in front of millions and millions of people, with not a cell phone in sight. Wait. If a prince gets married and it isn’t on Facebook, did it really happen? Of course it did. This was the ’80s.

It was spectacular. I am sure at least one of you reading this has a plate or a tea cup or a photo of some sort from that magical day. And then, just as magically as it began, the unraveling began as well.

But before we address the demise of the marriage, there was my other favorite royal couple, Prince Andrew and Fergie. Ah yes, Fergie, the red-headed, freckle-faced, high-spirited young lady who ended up capturing the hearts of Weight Watcher members all over the world. Yes, if a princess could weigh in and go to weekly meetings, so could everyone else. It was truly heart warming and normalizing.

But back to Charles and Di.

That gosh darn Camilla. I always wanted to be a fly on the wall of the royal home. The whole thing was like an actual fairy tale, and Camilla was the evil witch. And yet in the end, she and Charles found their happily ever after, whilst the poor, beautiful princess was tragically killed at such a young age, leaving her beautiful princes without a mother. The moral of the story? Life is not always a fairy tale.

But there can be sunshine after the storms. (Another life lesson.) We have William and Kate. Another amazing love story. Kate is a role model for young women everywhere on how to get your man. Play your cards right, and he can be yours. Be patient and your dreams will come true.

Can you imagine being Kate’s mother, having to give her advice? “Now Kate,” I can hear her saying. “William is a prince. A prince. A real life PRINCE. Don’t screw this one up!” I hope they are as happy in real life as they are in public.

I even made son #2 wake up early to watch the wedding with me. And it was totally worth it — well, it was worth it to me, I think he might have fallen asleep.

So why am I babbling on and on about royalty? I am an American. I have my own president to worry about, and he isn’t any kind of fairy tale at all. (Well, maybe a really really bad one.) The other night I had two Brits over for dinner. They were comparing accents; I, of course, thought they both sounded the same. Silly me, they disagreed.

And then they started talking about the queen. It was awesome. The discussion about who really killed Diana came up. Apparently my guests knew something that the rest of us didn’t. And the whole subject of the monarchy became akin to a Wimbledon tennis match, watching them go back and forth on their opinions. It was simply “brilliant.” They spoke as if the royal family were part of their family. And apparently, no one likes Prince Phillip.

But in the end, we all want to live happily ever after and be treated like kings and queens. Whether we are British or not.

God save the queen!

The end.

Banji Ganchrow of Teaneck knows that she is Cinderella, not a princess. She also hopes that no one will ever think of her as the evil mother-in-law….