Okay, look. I am a grown ass woman. I’m over the princess thing. Have you HEARD of Anne Boleyn, Bloody Mary, Elizabeth of York? Being a princess is not all it’s damn cracked up to be. Dressing up and getting dolled up is fun and all, but shit, gimme a great fitting pair of jeans and my Chucks over a cocktail dress and heels any day. Do I envy Kate Middleton? Not a chance in hell. Her husband is prematurely balding and she’s part of THAT cuckoo family now.
Plus, being a princess in the Disney movies is kinda shitty too. Did you SEE what happens to Ariel, all for the end goal of what, marriage? Bitch has her voice stolen, her beautiful sea life taken away, she’s supposed to perform out of some oyster shell when all she wants to do is play with forks, I mean no thank you. Aurora? Has to hide in the damn woods? Actually that would be AWESOME. Because she DOESN’T KNOW SHE’S A PRINCESS. And Belle was a lot more fun when she was kicking Gaston into mud puddles and raiding the library.
And I have always, ALWAYS hated Snow White. Even when I was a little kidlet, her movie bored me to tears. Be in your VOICE, woman. Own it. Breathe into your diaphragm. I can’t handle your breathy Marilyn Monroe thing.
On the other hand, there is a 5-year-old little girl still very much alive in spirit inside this grown ass woman and controlling things sometimes when Disney gets involved. I stood in line with a dozen 5-year-olds the last time I was at Disneyworld, to meet Snow White, and told her she was beautiful. I was 21. I jumped for joy when Jessie from Toy Story waved to me from the parade, and cried when Minnie Mouse blew me a kiss. I’ll never forgive Cinderella for blowing me off when I was 7 in the park, and have always had a soft spot for Cruella DeVille because after the blow to my little 7-year-old heart Cinderella gave me, I turned around and Cruella strutted up and told my brothers to step aside, “the girls were more important,” and pulled me close to her.
So, how am I feeling going into Princess Half Marathon weekend at Walt Disney World in 2 days?
On the one hand, I think the whole runDisney obsession is pretty corny. Grown-ass adults trampling each other for Disney merchandise at the Expo, throwing tantrums about meetups, and even stepping back and thinking about how many adults are wearing tutus and tiaras while running a half-marathon? And what about this bullshit:
What the hell does that even fucking mean? Did you SEE the way Cinderella tried to run away at midnight? Bitch lost her damn shoe. I run like an athlete, thanks.
On the other hand, then there is 5-year-old Nevie knocking. And she’s pretty sure as soon as I see the “welcome to Walt Disney World” sign, she’ll probably squeal and jump up and down in her seat and maybe cry a little bit all over again.
Because no matter how corny, and pretty really anti-feminist, and sometimes disturbingly more childish in adults than actual children are, there is something about Mickey’s kingdom that has me totally, ridiculously excited. There is magic in Disney World. It’s not from the pixie dust, or a magic spell some fairy godmother cast.
It’s in the way the unbridled excitement of children makes its way out of my normally pessimistic, jaded, and skeptical outlook. Disney World has the ability to make even this anti-princess just a little bit ridiculous too.