Happy Wednesday everybody! Yes it may be Friday now but it was most definitely a Wednesday when I wrote this, so there!
This week I was gonna write about the pros of Summer as I understand that perhaps not all of you have such an irrational aversion to it as I do. However after looking out of the window and seeing a whole load of mist and no sign of the sun wearing his hat, I just wasn't in the mood to sing his praises (his being the sun.) Though I promise you this weeks blog subject is as equally joyful as a full beaming sun. This weeks post is about Princesses.
Not a totally random subject when you consider the Diamond Jubilee that is coming up at the beginning of June. Being an employee at my mother's ice cream parlour we have been asked to celebrate the jubilee in style and come dressed as a Royal. I, of course, have opted to be the Duchess of Cambridge, (princess Kate to you and I) because of our obvious similarities in both looks and personality (sense the sarcasm here.)
It was a no brainer for me, of course I want to dress up as the princess, I mean who wouldn't? But the more I think about it, it is a little tragic to still take such delight in the idea of being a Princess. I am a 20 year old career obsessed, highly competitive aspiring journalist and yet I would happily throw all my hard work and dreams away in order to have the delight of wearing a tiara (and not just a plastic pink one on my birthday which I will no doubt donate to a male in a night club.)
So what is it about Princesses that provokes even the most cynical romantic (I'm referring to myself here) to throw away all of their 'strong independent woman' values in favour of a life of curtsying?
Well from birth, little girls all over the world are fed a pack of lies. Glancing through my 'congratulations on your new baby cards' (as in the ones my mum was given, not my own baby, heaven forbid), there are countless 'Congratulations on your little Princess' cards. How many fathers across the world build their daughters hopes up by telling them they are Princesses? I'm not exaggerating when I say that I truly believed that I was a real Princess once I was fed this lie and I remember the bitter disappointment I faced after my mother revealed to me that actually this wasn't true after I had been shot down with laughter by my friends at school when I revealed my secret Royal identity as a Princess.
Lets take the case of Sara Crewe, the little girl from the book/film (no one read the book) A Little Princess. She insisted on telling the whole of that boarding school that she was a Princess despite having no royal connections whatsoever, and refused to be told otherwise (no wonder Miss Minchin was a bit shirty with her.) And this was all due to an over indulgent father and too many fairy stories.
I mean its no wonder we all believe that we should be Princesses. From the age of about 2 upwards we are plonked in front of Disney movie after Disney movie, so that in the end we know no different. We are taught that no matter what goes wrong in our lives 'some day our prince will come' and we will live happily ever after. And I can't deny that I still don't possess this naive view.
As I am writing this I am watching Cinderella with my sister and I have that same stupid grin on my face when she sings 'so this is love mmmmm.' Because I rescued a mouse from my cats talons the other day and have unstacked the dish washer more than 5 times in the past year I am convinced that me and old Cindy have too much in common and that I too deserve to be a Princess. Maybe my interpretation of what being a Princess means has changed but still I have bored my family and friends half to death about the fact that education is fabulous and all, but eventually I will marry a gorgeous charming husband from Chelsea and live happily ever after.
Maybe Disney should do some follow up movies about how after 4 years of marriage and a spin off reality TV series, Cinders realised that Prince Charming had lost his charm and no matter how much Rogaine he used he still has a receding hair line. So after a passionate affair with Buttons she moved to the big city and now runs her own cleaning business with her mice friends, rather than this 'happily ever after' nonsense.
But then again maybe its healthy to infuse today's youth with optimism and the notion that 'everything will be alright in the end.' Unfortunately depression, anxiety and pessimism runs in my family but every Monday, at 11pm after an episode of Made in Chelsea and several glasses of wine, my faith that dreams can come true is restored and that there are really people, in real life, who do do their weekly shop at Harrods or, even better, have it delivered. And maybe its not just a silly fairy story after all.
I know Kate Middleton is stupidly posh and fancy but she was a commoner and she's now a Princess (Duchess whatever.) And Harry, as moronic as he may be, is still on the market so maybe becoming a Princess isn't such a ridiculous dream. Plus they're are so pretty, no one can resent a Princess. Everyone loves a pretty Princess.
I think I may be more likely to be one of the step sisters, forcing my little sister to bring tea in my own huge town house, though she best not start getting any ideas, I don’t think I could bare it if she became a Princess and I didn’t. I think Drizella and Anastasia were misunderstood, they were just a sucker to the fairy stories like we are. When Anastasia hears of the Prince's ball and says 'I'm so eligible' you can just see the desperate Princess dream sparkle in her caroon eyes that exists in every little girl.
(You would swear that myself and Kate were separated at birth, aside from the ten year age gap)
It was a no brainer for me, of course I want to dress up as the princess, I mean who wouldn't? But the more I think about it, it is a little tragic to still take such delight in the idea of being a Princess. I am a 20 year old career obsessed, highly competitive aspiring journalist and yet I would happily throw all my hard work and dreams away in order to have the delight of wearing a tiara (and not just a plastic pink one on my birthday which I will no doubt donate to a male in a night club.)
(If you see an intoxicated male wearing this, it's most likely mine)
So what is it about Princesses that provokes even the most cynical romantic (I'm referring to myself here) to throw away all of their 'strong independent woman' values in favour of a life of curtsying?
Well from birth, little girls all over the world are fed a pack of lies. Glancing through my 'congratulations on your new baby cards' (as in the ones my mum was given, not my own baby, heaven forbid), there are countless 'Congratulations on your little Princess' cards. How many fathers across the world build their daughters hopes up by telling them they are Princesses? I'm not exaggerating when I say that I truly believed that I was a real Princess once I was fed this lie and I remember the bitter disappointment I faced after my mother revealed to me that actually this wasn't true after I had been shot down with laughter by my friends at school when I revealed my secret Royal identity as a Princess.
Lets take the case of Sara Crewe, the little girl from the book/film (no one read the book) A Little Princess. She insisted on telling the whole of that boarding school that she was a Princess despite having no royal connections whatsoever, and refused to be told otherwise (no wonder Miss Minchin was a bit shirty with her.) And this was all due to an over indulgent father and too many fairy stories.
(He's lying to you Sara)
I mean its no wonder we all believe that we should be Princesses. From the age of about 2 upwards we are plonked in front of Disney movie after Disney movie, so that in the end we know no different. We are taught that no matter what goes wrong in our lives 'some day our prince will come' and we will live happily ever after. And I can't deny that I still don't possess this naive view.
(And another one bites the dust)
As I am writing this I am watching Cinderella with my sister and I have that same stupid grin on my face when she sings 'so this is love mmmmm.' Because I rescued a mouse from my cats talons the other day and have unstacked the dish washer more than 5 times in the past year I am convinced that me and old Cindy have too much in common and that I too deserve to be a Princess. Maybe my interpretation of what being a Princess means has changed but still I have bored my family and friends half to death about the fact that education is fabulous and all, but eventually I will marry a gorgeous charming husband from Chelsea and live happily ever after.
(My modern day equivalent to Prince Charming)
Maybe Disney should do some follow up movies about how after 4 years of marriage and a spin off reality TV series, Cinders realised that Prince Charming had lost his charm and no matter how much Rogaine he used he still has a receding hair line. So after a passionate affair with Buttons she moved to the big city and now runs her own cleaning business with her mice friends, rather than this 'happily ever after' nonsense.
But then again maybe its healthy to infuse today's youth with optimism and the notion that 'everything will be alright in the end.' Unfortunately depression, anxiety and pessimism runs in my family but every Monday, at 11pm after an episode of Made in Chelsea and several glasses of wine, my faith that dreams can come true is restored and that there are really people, in real life, who do do their weekly shop at Harrods or, even better, have it delivered. And maybe its not just a silly fairy story after all.
(Oh how delightful!)
I know Kate Middleton is stupidly posh and fancy but she was a commoner and she's now a Princess (Duchess whatever.) And Harry, as moronic as he may be, is still on the market so maybe becoming a Princess isn't such a ridiculous dream. Plus they're are so pretty, no one can resent a Princess. Everyone loves a pretty Princess.
(Princess Grace, how lovely you are...were)
I think I may be more likely to be one of the step sisters, forcing my little sister to bring tea in my own huge town house, though she best not start getting any ideas, I don’t think I could bare it if she became a Princess and I didn’t. I think Drizella and Anastasia were misunderstood, they were just a sucker to the fairy stories like we are. When Anastasia hears of the Prince's ball and says 'I'm so eligible' you can just see the desperate Princess dream sparkle in her caroon eyes that exists in every little girl.
So yes, I want to be a Princess, that is the moral of this blog. Also I would just like to make it clear to my readers that other princesses (Disney or otherwise) are available and this blog is not exclusively in support of Cinderella.
Have a lovely week, and next week I hope I will be in a good enough mood to write something positive about summer.
No comments:
Post a Comment