Princesses

I went to Disneyworld for four days this past week. What I realized while I was there is that girls desperately, desperately want to be princesses. We love the ornate ball gowns. We love the hair updos or braids or flowing waviness, whatever fits the occasion. We love the jewelry: diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, amethysts, or pearls. Sadly, we also want the hourglass shape, the clear skin, the pouty lips, the gorgeous eyes. We love the idea that is espoused by Mr. Disney, that there is a prince out there for us and he will recognize our special-ness because he, too, is just that special. We want to feel valued, we want to feel taken care of, we want to be told that it's all about us.

And it's just not real. It's just not going to happen. We might like mani-pedis, pretty dresses, an ab-crunched stomach, but it's fleeting. We still have hangnails, we still have to shave our legs, and we still get poochy stomachs after having babies (well, most of us, anyway). We cannot rely on a man to make us feel valued. We can't have it be all about us or we will suck as mothers.

What can we have? We can be loved. We can give love. We can know that our special-ness doesn't come from without, but from within. It's not easy to remember.

I still sometimes want to be a Disney Princess with little rabbits and birds frolicking around me.