Princess Catherine of Wales wowed everyone with her first public appearance in months. People were blown away by her hair, especially since she’s been dealing with chemotherapy and hair loss, and couldn’t stop talking about it.
The Princess of Wales has had an incredibly challenging year, returning to the public eye four months after starting chemotherapy. Kate was diagnosed with cancer and has been recovering at home in Windsor with the support of her husband, Prince William, and the Middleton family.
The mother of three asked for time, space, and privacy for her family when she announced that she was being treated for an undisclosed form of cancer.
She made a stunning appearance at Trooping the Colour for King Charles III’s birthday parade in London, turning heads with her gorgeous dress and hair. This was Catherine’s first public event since her diagnosis, and she wowed everyone in a white dress with black trim and ribbon details on the neckline.
Catherine finished her upcycled outfit with a white hat, pearl studs, and the Irish Guards Regimental Brooch, honoring her role. Her hair was styled in a low bun with intricate detailing, and it was this detail that people mostly focused on.
Many questioned her hair, given that she had undergone chemotherapy. Some even doubted it was the Princess of Wales. “That’s not her,” someone commented in disbelief, while another stated, “That’s not Kate.”
One user expressed genuine curiosity, saying, “Want to know how she’s keeping her hair through chemotherapy… This is a serious question. I am not making a dig or anything like that…”
“You can have chemotherapy and not lose your hair?”, someone else questioned, or others commented with things like: “Was William with her? And if she’s having chemo how come she still has her hair?”.
Comments continued, and a user commented underneath a video displaying the princess with her daughter Charlotte: “She doesn’t look herself however I find it a bit weird that after 6 months of chemo she still looks good. I mean bless her if this is the case, but I still believe that something else is up.”
Amidst questions and curiosity, people couldn’t help but feel joy seeing Kate return to the public eye looking as stunning as ever. Most comments highlighted this, complimenting the Princess of Wales on her appearance.
“Such beauty, grace, and elegance while the whole world is watching all while facing the toughest time of life.. a true inspiration what a Princess…”, someone wrote. “She looks great considering what she’s going through. Praying she gets through the day as best as she can.”
Another user recognized Kate’s elegance and class, writing: “Looking beautiful, as usual! A true princess: elegant, classy & strong!”
People have been buzzing about Princess Catherine’s appearance on another occasion.
My 81-year-old grandma started posting selfies on Instagram with heavy filters.
The notification popped up on my phone, another Instagram post from Grandma Rose. I sighed, tapping on the icon. There she was, her face smoothed and airbrushed beyond recognition, a pair of oversized, cartoonish sunglasses perched on her nose. A cascade of digital sparkles rained down around her. The caption read, “Feeling my vibe! #OOTD #YOLO #GrandmaGoals.”
My stomach churned. At first, it had been a novelty, a quirky, endearing quirk of my 81-year-old grandmother. But now, weeks into her social media blitz, it was bordering on unbearable.
It had started innocently enough. She’d asked me to help her set up an Instagram account, intrigued by the photos I’d shown her of my travels and friends. I’d thought it was a sweet way for her to stay connected with the family, a digital scrapbook of sorts.
But Grandma Rose had taken to Instagram like a fish to water, or rather, like a teenager to a viral trend. She’d discovered the world of filters, the power of hashtags, and the allure of online validation. Suddenly, she was posting multiple times a day, each photo more heavily filtered than the last.
The captions were a whole other level of cringe. She’d pepper them with slang I barely understood, phrases like “slay,” “lit,” and “no cap.” She’d even started using emojis, a barrage of hearts, stars, and laughing faces that seemed to clash with her gentle, grandmotherly image.
The pinnacle of my mortification came when she asked me, with wide, earnest eyes, how to do a “get ready with me” video. “You know, darling,” she’d said, her voice brimming with excitement, “like those lovely young ladies on the internet. I want to show everyone my makeup routine!”
I’d choked on my coffee. My makeup routine consisted of moisturizer and a swipe of mascara. Grandma Rose’s “makeup routine” involved a dusting of powder and a dab of lipstick.
The worst part was, my entire family was egging her on. They’d shower her with likes and comments, calling her “amazing,” “inspiring,” and “a social media queen.” They were completely oblivious to my growing dread.
I was trapped in a vortex of secondhand embarrassment. What if my friends saw these posts? What if my coworkers stumbled upon her profile? I could already imagine the whispers, the snickers, the awkward attempts at polite conversation.
I found myself avoiding family gatherings, dreading the inevitable discussions about Grandma Rose’s latest post. I’d scroll through my feed, wincing at each new notification, my finger hovering over the “unfollow” button, a button I couldn’t bring myself to press.
One evening, I found myself sitting across from my mom, the glow of her phone illuminating her face as she scrolled through Grandma Rose’s profile. “Isn’t she just the cutest?” she gushed, showing me a photo of Grandma Rose with a digital halo and angel wings.
“Mom,” I said, my voice strained, “don’t you think this is… a little much?”
My mom looked at me, her brow furrowed. “What do you mean? She’s having fun. She’s expressing herself.”
“But it’s not her,” I argued. “It’s like she’s trying to be someone else.”
“She’s adapting, darling,” my mom said, her voice gentle. “She’s embracing technology. She’s living her best life.”
I knew I wasn’t going to win this argument. My family, in their well-meaning attempt to support Grandma Rose, were completely blind to the awkwardness of the situation.
I decided to try a different approach. The next time Grandma Rose asked me for help with her Instagram, I sat down with her and gently explained the concept of “authenticity.” I showed her photos of herself, unfiltered and unedited, her smile genuine, her eyes sparkling with wisdom.
“You’re beautiful just the way you are, Grandma,” I said, my voice sincere. “You don’t need filters or slang to be amazing.”
She looked at the photos, her eyes softening. “Do you really think so, darling?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“Absolutely,” I said, squeezing her hand.
Grandma Rose didn’t stop posting, but she did tone it down. The filters became less intense, the captions more genuine. She even started sharing stories from her life, anecdotes that were both heartwarming and hilarious.
And slowly, I began to appreciate her online presence. I realized that it wasn’t about trying to be an influencer; it was about Grandma Rose finding her own way to connect with the world, to express her joy, to simply be herself. And in the end, that was more than enough.
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