Once upon a time in a dumpster, there lived a Princess who had 36 cats...

On the weekend, I was a princess.

I wore a wedding dress (that I OWN, thank you very much...) to a four-year-old girl's princess themed birthday party and showed up as a real princess.

Surprisingly, I have done weirder gigs.

And as much as I wanted to show up hammered with makeup running from my eyes because of the running-tap-like tears that wouldn't stop weeping about how love doesn't exist and your very own Prince Charming will soon enough leave you for a better version of you, I didn't.  I gave those four-year-olds a show they will never forget.  Nor will I.

Now besides the fact that one teeny child saw that I had grease on the bottom of my dress
(Her: Princess, your dress looks like a car ran over it.
Me: Well, my carriage broke down and Prince Charming had to get more gas and I was on the side of the road and there were TRUCKS.
Her: Oh.
Me:  Well, like other things in a Princess' life, I will hide the ugliness and just show off the beautiful dress.
Her:  That's better.)
And the fact that all of my stories were held together with lies, charm, and the overwhelming fear of dying at the hands of children, I think I pulled off being a princess quite well.

Not that I had any practice as a child myself.

You see, I was what you would call a "obese" child.  "Rotund".  "Chunky".  "Hideously fat".  I never really liked any of the Disney movies growing up because it instilled the idea that the skinny beautiful girls would have horrible lives until their "Prince Charming" came along.  And let's face it:  if those girls are having tough lives before they found true love, what about the crap girls would go through who had to wear ladies size 14 jeans in grade 4?  Well, I guess they are just doomed to a life of flirting with the pizza delivery guy because they hadn't left their house in a week and living with the fear that if they fall down (presumably from becoming winded from going up the stairs) their 7 cats will eventually eat away at their rotting corpse because no body would realize they had died. I had figured that this would be the way my life would go until one fateful day when I met my role model.

Her name was Ursula.

She was a massively obese octopus.

Once I saw the power Ursula had in her 8 tentacles (dude, she TOOK SOME CHICK'S VOICE.  WHO DOES THAT?!?!) I knew that ANYTHING was possible.

So I bought a wedding dress, and played the waiting game.

After the realization occurred that I in fact was not a two-tonne octopus destined for evil (and that "The Little Mermaid" was not in fact a documentary about the life of under-sea royalty...), I set off to make use of my newly found wedding dress the best way I knew how... I made people feel uncomfortable.

One of the gigs I had to do with said dress was to sit in the food court of the West Edmonton Mall and be a part of a scavenger hunt.  People had to find the "devastated bride" which meant (you guessed it) I had to sit there - bawling.  For hours.  The other food court-goers were confused (and I do not blame them) as I sat there crying my eyes out.  I would sometimes grab a pop or some fries, which made it even worse (Food court goer: "Look sweetie, she's eating her pain") but I soldiered on.  I look at this experience as a real-life foreshadowing of the life that I will lead, and if that's the case, BRING IT ON. 

If there are any teeny girls reading this blog who want to become princesses when they grow old, I hope you see how the fall from Princess to Random girl bawling in a wedding dress in a food court eating KFC is a slippery slope.

But it sure is a fun one!

Until my prince wakes me up from this rohipnol-induced dream with a creepy kiss,

Princess Ursula