The Merry Princess

I am a merry princess, gleeful as a blossoming forest tree, content with my damsel-in-distress destiny, for what greater ambition exists than to be wholesome, bland, useless, and pretty? I can sing as gayly as a bluebird sings upon falling from his nest and hitting his feathery head. Which, in case you were wondering, is still as happily as daffodils swaying in the breeze despite the sound of approaching lawnmowers roaring in the distance. Fairies handcrafted my dress and elves tied every single bow, just like in those Golden Books series your pot-smoking teenage babysitter read to you when you were little. The ice queen simply winked and my glass slippers magically appeared before me, faster than a pizza delivery guy (of course, in your neighborhood, that may not be very fast at all.) I may be medieval, but my fashion is always beautifully modern. Why? Because my physical appearance is what matters most to me. After all, Prince Charming won't propose if I'm frumpy and ugly. I better be shaven from chin to toe, my eyelashes better be curled, and if a single fly-away pops up on my raven mane, I might as well kiss that engagement ring farewell now. Bye-bye, diamonds! Bye-bye, gold! Bye-bye, the best part about marriage proposals! If you think engagement rings are just antiquated symbols of male dominance and ownership, seeing a sparkling ring welded by dragon flames may just change your mind.

You think I should have higher aspirations than commodifying myself for all potential purchasers? That there should be more to life than worrying about applying and re-applying ruby red lipstick all day? You think I should read the great books of the world and engage in meaningful conversations with thoughtful, educated individuals who drink only the finest of wines and teas? You think I should donate my money to charity instead of throwing it away on delicate handkerchiefs that I can drop as soon as a handsome knight enters the room? Oh, silly, red-blood--trying to be revolutionary, are you? Trying to fight for my rights as a woman, as a human being, who deserves to enrich her mind just as much as any white male Protestant? You just don't understand! I WANT to sit on a toadstool counting daisy petals all day. I WANT to admire myself in the mirror for hours on end, especially the way my eyes gleam like gentle mountain streams. I WANT to daydream about my wedding day, and all the unicorns and pixies in company. I WANT to go house-hunting for the perfect palace, especially if it means picking out a bigger, lovelier one than what my girlfriends own. I have no complaints about my frivolous societal role.

I absolutely adore being a merry, merry princess! So, please, feminist darlings, don't try to change that. Or else I might call my favorite witch to cast a hex on you!