Anger Management: A Cinderella Story

My first thought upon waking up this morning wasn't, "Must. Sleep. More." or "Time to make the donuts" or anything remotely normal. No, no. When I hopped out of bed this morning, I thought to myself, "Self," I thought, "I'd like to kick Cinderella's ass!"

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it's not just Cinderella who needs an ass-whooping. Her smug friends Snow White and Sleeping Beauty are on notice, too. Why am I so irrationally angry at fictional characters, you may wonder? (Translation: is Princess off her meds?) It's pretty damn simple. My whole life, I've been waiting for the fairy tale ending. Hell, I've been waiting for the fairy tale beginning! But here's what I can tell you about Cinderella that's changed my mind as of late . . .

She's a lousy role model for a little girl, first of all. Mind you, I was never what you'd describe as "little". My mother claims I came out of the womb over 5 feet tall, but my family has a penchant for the melodramatic. (Shocking, I know.) My entire life, I have been waiting for little woodland creatures to spring to life and make over my wardrobe. The closest I've come is when I accidentally washed a bat with my whites. Every time I scrub the toilet, I wonder where my fairy godmother is and when she's going to free me from the domestic purgatory that is my own filth. And don't even get me started on the number of humiliating dances I attended in the vain hopes that my Prince Charming would show up and sweep me off my two left feet.

So, Cinderella goes to the ball in her fancy glass slippers and meets a prince. Unlike in real life, her prince doesn't appear to have an angry ex-wife, an Oedipus complex, or a receding hairline. He's not conflicted about his sexuality and just waiting for the right moment to come out. He's gainfully employed and he even has his own horse! Of course, it's love at first sight. He dances with her without stomping on her feet and breaking her glass slipper - and apparently, he does so without complaining about how he'd rather be watching hockey. He takes an interest in her. He genuinely wants to know her as a person and he is heartbroken when she pulls a runner at midnight, leaving only a sweaty shoe in her wake.

Now, I've never run off on a prince at the stroke of midnight, so I'm speculating a little bit here. But I've got to tell you, I think it's a little unrealistic to think that a guy who doesn't know your name, who met you for three hours at a ball, and who you ran off on is going to drop everything to return your shoe. Most of the time, I can't get a frog to return a text message, much less personal property. I know that Cinderella wasn't purposely playing hard to get, but the message I got from this story is that if you show up places looking cute and wearing good shoes, handsome and successful frogs who may or may not have their own horses will fall madly in love with you.

I don't begrudge Cinderella her fairy tale. What bugs me, though, is the idea that she lived happily ever after. Really? She never woke up on the fat side of the bed? Her skin never broke out? She never felt sad or lonely or irrationally angry even though she lived in a castle and had no reason to complain? The prince never came home late? Never forgot an anniversary? Never hogged the remote or farted in bed? She never had a cavity or high blood pressure or needed to color her hair? She never worried about how to pay the mortgage or about her parents getting older or about the meaning of life? And I'm sure she never had to see a therapist.

Hey, Cinderella. I don't live in a fairy tale. I live in a 100 year old house in the city with my dog. I worry about everything. I see a therapist. A lot. I have bad hair days and acne and tooth decay. I want my life to mean something but I can't figure out what that something is. Even though I know your story is bullshit, I'm still holding out hope that I can have my own fairy tale ending. And that, my dear, is why you are going down.

© 2010 Princess D