A Princess
“My name is “no no no,” but daddy calls me princess.”
I didn’t want to be a princess, I wanted to be an inventor. Someone told me that girls who liked pink were sissies, so at age seven, my favorite color was blue. Twirling wasn’t on the list when I was growing up. I was going places, I was doing things. I have a picture with pigtails and bangs, wearing a tutu over my pants: that is because I wanted to be a famous ballerina, not a princess.
“What part of princess don’t you understand?”
I found it at Salvation Army. The dress. It looked perfect on me. A simple sundress, I could slip it on and feel fresh and beautiful. At 13, my parents always loved and encouraged me in all that I did, but they were just my parents. It didn’t matter how much they told me I was special—I needed to hear it from the general populous. I needed to hear it enough to drown out the doubts that were in my own head. When I was wearing that dress, I did. But when I took it off, the magic ended, and I was still sitting by the cinders.
“Being a princess isn't all it's cracked up to be.” –Princess Diana
Self-esteem and confidence are not easily learned. I still remember the one time I was called “four-eyes,” instead of the many times I have been complemented on my glasses. I threw away the shirt I wore when I was called chubby, but I could not erase the affects. Princesses don’t always feel beautiful. I focused my energy on things that didn’t require pretty dresses and dainty manners. All that princess stuff was for sissies. But I knew better.
“We can’t all be a princess…someone has to sit on the curb and clap as I go by.”
The bride wore white, and I wore purple. The thick luscious cloth with silver beads that rained down to my waist. It was her day, but she made me feel special and loved. I walked like a princess because I felt like one. My body and I called a truce and agreed to shake hands: maybe we could learn to like each other. Maybe it was important to invest in myself and take the time to pretty myself up. Somewhere along the way of growing up, I gathered the wrong information that spending time on how you look was selfish and frivolous. While I still want to glow from the inside out, sometimes shimmer lotion helps.
“It clearly states princess on my birth certificate.”
Before I left, my mother told me I looked beautiful and I twirled for her in agreement. I danced over the wood floors and never lacked for partners. I smiled and laughed, even when I wasn’t sure of what I was doing. Especially when I wasn’t sure. Because I find out soon enough. Tuesdays and contra dancing emphasize the princess in me, when I wear soft shoes and a skirt that twirls. But princessness is also in simple smiles and dirty jeans, creating beauty in moments and words, rather than just special clothes and complements.
“I prefer Princess. I would love to be known as a diva later on in life when I've had far more experiences.” --Deborah Cox