The British royal family recently welcomed a new baby princess. If you are like most people, you saw the beautiful Kate Middleton descending the hospital stairs, holding her newborn, full of grace, beauty and smiles, and thought to yourself, "Wow, Kate Middleton and Katiedid Langrock are totally twinsies!"

I get that a lot. We do have a lot of similarities. She has brown hair. I have brown hair. She is married to a prince. I am married to a guy who once owned a Prince album. She is known for having a younger sister with a cute butt. My younger brother was recently whistled at by a streetwalker, who told him his rear was fine. But despite our obvious soul mate status, our similarity in names and our mutual affinity for vomiting relentlessly during early pregnancy, I'm willing to wager our day-to-day lives vary.

I was not one of the many women who saw how beautiful Kate looked a few hours after birth and cried foul. Having to wear a pretty yellow dress rather than sweatpants and postpartum panties sounds like a nightmare. After having my son, I didn't want to lift a hand to brush my teeth, let alone lift it to wave to adoring fans.

But on the other hand, being given the royal treatment while pregnant probably has its perks. For example, I'm confident Kate was given an official hair-holder-backer. Do you think the British government would risk stomach acid-induced split ends on those gorgeous locks? I think not! Kate's hair is a national treasure! I, however, do not live in such luxury. Rather than have a staff member whose sole job is to pull my hair back when a bout of sickness arises, I live life dangerously. That's right; the strand status and smell of my hair rely solely on a few rubber bands. Sometimes, if I'm feeling really risky, I'll even head out of the house with a single scrunchie secured on my arm.

If I were the princess, my royal staff would, of course, include the royal chef. Having a cook be at my every pregnancy whim sounds wonderful. How else could I get blueberry artichoke muffins at 3 a.m.? Who else would tolerate my endlessly changing opinions on what food seems delicious versus what seems disgusting? After all, my tastes can flip-flop the second my meal is completed. The job may seem tough, but on my royal staff, the cook's job would be comparatively cushy.

After eating my peanut butter salmon pancakes (thanks, chef!), I'd shake up the staff. If royal families still rely on an official taste tester to check for poison, I would relieve this person of his position. The risk of death would be too great. Poison might not kill him, but getting in between this pregnant lady and her dinner just might. Not that it'd be the end of the world. Let's be honest; the royal family is very well-connected. It could enact a cover-up on my behalf if it wanted. I mean, Kate's had two kids. How many good workers have we lost in the process?

To fill the void in my staff left behind by my taste tester (may he stay in hiding or rest in peace), I would round out my pregnancy staff with more unconventional employees, as I'm sure Kate has. I'm betting her staff and my planned staff are pretty identical.

For starters, enough sleeping with a pregnancy pillow between my legs, which I must readjust throughout the night, making sleep nearly impossible. I would replace my pillow with a tiny contortionist, who would read my body language and change her position to fit my belly needs throughout the evening.

I would hire a royal masseuse, a royal shaver to smooth out my legs when I can't reach them and a royal ring-maker to create replicas of my royal engagement ring at every size to accommodate my fingers swelling up and down. And most importantly, my royal pregnancy staff would have to include a beefeater at my disposal to just yell at. That's it. All day, all night. Anytime I'm feeling emotional or irrational, I'd have an official vent guard ready to take my wrath and not cry.

When Will and Kate came down the hospital steps looking like postpartum perfection, most people commented that it is easy to look so good when you have a staff. It sure is.

Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at http://www.facebook.com/katiedidhumor. Check out her column at http://didionsbible.com. To find out more about Katiedid Langrock and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.