aside from the extensive ridicule
regarding the tone of my skin in
comparison to my beautifully golden,
water polo-playing, sunscreen-fearing brothers,
home welcomed me with warm, sandy angel kisses.
after having found nowhere suitable to swim
in New York City for the last seven months (!),
i was more than willing to accept the nickname
“Snow White” in exchange for an oceanic embrace
and some (slightly violent) hair tugs from a rip current.
after all, Snow White looks more like Dita Von Teese
than any of the other Disney harlots,
so i suppose if i had to pick one to resemble,
it would be her (or Ariel… mermaid, duh).
her royal position doesn’t hurt either,
and though some may not agree,
i think that suits me.
all i’m saying is that i didn’t have to
ask anyone for permission to be a princess,
i just woke up one day and decided it would be so.
as A Little Princess‘s Sara Crewe would say:
“I am a princess. All girls are. Even if they live in tiny old attics.
Even if they dress in rags, even if they aren’t pretty, or smart, or young.
They’re still princesses. All of us. Didn’t your father ever tell you that? Didn’t he?”
in honor of coming home to a daddy that always makes me feel like a princess.