Let me lay this out for you: I never routed for the princess. I always thought that they were like the girls in Catholic School that acted dumb or helpless to get what they wanted. I hated that mainly because I couldn’t get away with it. With that said, I had a daughter.
So last week I found myself at the happiest place on Earth if you are six or on Quaaludes. That’s correct, I was at princess lunch at fucking Disney. I tried and tried to not let my girl get involved with princes and happily ever after mainly because it doesn’t exist. Human nature doesn’t work like that. You get up the morning after a happily ever after and wonder how the hell you got there. All relationships are work. Some are great and some suck. I found myself here because it was not about me. It was about her. I had a moment when she saw Cinderella that I had no right to take from her. It was, Oh My God, maybe it does exist, despite what my mother tells me. The “it” is that perfect place in a child’s mind where everything is fine. It is that place before the first heartbreak. The place that, I am beginning to believe, most of us try to find again. And there she was; the icon of that, dressed in a ball gown, too much make up and a bad wig. She actress never broke character. My girl asked a few questions and smiled like it was the greatest thing because it was.
I kept thinking to myself: how do you get to play princess all day long? Is it part of an internship or community service? Does she drink heavily after being in a ball gown all day? I know I would. Is this a minim wage job? It doesn’t make any sense to me at all. Then again, I don’t believe in fairy tales.
The thing of it is, no matter how much I tell my girl, it is her job to prove me wrong. It is like the ever wise Capri said to me, “I played with friggin Barbie dolls my whole childhood, it didn’t make me a bimbo. I don’t even wear mascara.” She is right. Girls are born with their own agenda. They are born with an instinct to shove it up their mother’s ass and say, “See I told you.” I’m OK with that for now. If she needs to believe in a happily ever, after with all of the things she has been through in six years, then by all means believe. Will there be a prince with a glass slipper? With my girl, nothing would surprise me. I will keep her as safe as I can for as long as I can.
As for me, I had a good week. I extended my happy hour (with the other mother I went with) beginning at 9am on days we didn’t go to Mouse land. I got tan. My vag got a rest. I’m back to business now. Business is good. I don’t know if you can find that place before pain. I don’t know if it is good to even try. I hope she finds it. When and if she does find it, I hope she takes me with her.
I know. The problem with Fantasy is that it fails to live up to my wildest dreams.