welcome to my fairy tale
You call this happily ever after?
As the holiday season quickly approaches, the onslaught of holiday movies, classic fairy tales, and upcoming romantic fare has me wondering…what does happily ever after really mean?
Let’s face it, those dreams we had as a child are hard to top.
When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a princess, marry a prince, and live in a castle with talking mice, squirrels, and blue birds that would cook and clean for me with a whistle and a song. What I ended up with was a house full of screaming teenagers, dogs who bicker over toys like rabid toddlers, and a husband who may or may not be plotting my demise with the vigor of a wicked stepmother with a thing for poison apples.
It sort of makes me wonder if the fairy tales are even fair. Maybe we should call them unfairy tales.
Would I be so disenchanted if my childhood expectations had been slightly more realistic? I mean, if Prince Charming had blown up at the princess when she told him how much that tiara was going to set him back. Of if he had rolled his eyes at the impracticality of wearing glass slippers and satin ball gowns around the house…especially when she has a perfectly good pair of squirrels just a tweak or two away from being a nice pair of fuzzy slippers.
And the idea of a handsome, well-groomed prince breaking into song at the drop of a hat may be realistic to some, but chances are if he’s that into musicals and man-scaping, he isn’t going to be into the princess, now is he?
But the prince isn’t the only problem with the fairy tale. We can’t forget about those cute little mice.
What if they had been hogging the remote to watch the nature channel all day, antagonizing the cat, refusing to do the dishes, and leaving those little pellets all over the floor? That might have given me a different perspective on things.
I had such hopes for my life in the castle, but the reality is…castles are cold drafty places with dark corners and scary dungeons!
So what the hell do I do now?
I guess I make the best of it. Instead of poisoned apples, I’m hoping for apple martinis. And if I can’t be a princess, at least I can be a lady. So what if I didn’t marry a handsome prince…sometimes we just have to make do with a slightly rumpled tramp and a house full of puppies.
Until the next time…I’ll be vacuuming the castle.