Bibbity-Bobbity-Boo

As a child, I read them all. The fairy tales, the nursery rhymes. Wearing my mom’s high school tiara and prom dress I would dance and sing, confident in the knowledge that some day my own prince would come. When he did, it lacked the expected fan fare. No pumpkin carriage escorted me to a grand hall where we danced the night away. There was no long-awaited kiss that awakened my soul. I didn’t even have a fairy god-mother to turn my average girl-next-door looks into that of a princess. I was on my own for this one. But I was certain we would live happily ever after. Eight years after we said our vows, the judge signed the papers releasing us from the ever-after part. We were happy, unlike most divorcing couples. But I began to realize I hadn’t read Disney’s fine print. If I had only paid attention to the details I could have saved myself years of trouble!

Consider Cinderella. Nice girl. Hard working. Not well-liked by her siblings, but nonetheless catches the attention of the Prince at the biggest ball in town. Or did she? If you reread the story, you realize the Prince was really interested in her SHOE. He searched all over town for the woman that wore that shoe. He wasn’t so much interested in her, he had a shoe fetish is all. It should have told Cinderella something right then and there about Mr. Charming. My guess is he had a closet full of designer clothes and walked just a little light in his own loafers if you catch my drift.

Snow White. I have two words for you. Seven dwarfs? Anytime seven men spend that much time together it isn’t a good sign and these seven lived and worked together. Did any of them ever make a single move on ol’ Fair-skinned herself? Nope. Instead, she falls asleep by a spell and sleeps until her prince arrives. What took him so long? My guess is he might have been more interested in the dwarfs.

Little Red Riding Hood. I learned in my Children’s Lit course in college that this story is full of underlying tones of male dominance, submission and a theme of conquest. On second glance, it really seems to be to be a story about a big, burly, hairy male dressing up in women’s clothes. My first encounter with a drag queen.

Maybe, if I had paid attention to the real story and realized fairy tales were about fairies I would have been prepared when my husband came out of the closet. At the very least, maybe I would have felt as though I were in good company. Either way, I know I won’t be dressing up in my gown and tiara anytime soon – my ex got those in the divorce.