Death of a Disney Princess

I need to commit a murder. Not an actual one, of course, but a metaphorical one.

You see, there is a Disney Princess living in my head. She has been there for as long as I can remember. I’m not sure which one she is, or if she is just a compilation of all the worst ones: passive, helpless yet optimistic, beautiful and fragile, golden or raven-haired, perfect lips and huge sparkling eyes, and waiting-for-a-prince. If I had my way she would be a combination of Belle (bookish and independent) and Mulan (tomboy and unconventional), but I’m afraid she is more like Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella. She lives her life waiting to be rescued.

She must die!

You may think me a bit harsh, but this broad is screwing up my life. I’m single and happy – most of the time. After some attempts as physical encounters in the past year that were unsatisfactory and boring, I have settled into a reluctant state of celibacy; accepting this temporary state the way one drives through a patch of thick fog on the highway: mindfully, carefully, and with lights on. Right now I am focusing on creating a new life exactly the way I want it to be. But here comes Cinder-Beauty, just when I am feeling content, insisting that I am incomplete until I meet the Prince.

And then I start looking for him. In the grocery store, at the New Year’s Eve party, even in fictitious places and dreams. I recently read a memoir by a man I deeply admire. I read right up until the point that he met his wife-to-be, then I lost interest in the book.

Princess-projecting much?

So I’m printing a collage of all the Disney gals, folding it neatly into an envelope, and transporting it to South America when I embark on my journey there. At the moment of sunset on my 49th birthday, I shall shred her into pieces and burn them (in a fire-safe bowl of course.) And I shall do this in front of Pablo Neruda’s house, Chascona (“woman with tousled hair”, which is a version of what my last and greatest ex-love used to call me.) I may even read a piece of Neruda’s poetry at this ceremony-for-one.

I think Cinder-Beauty, with her last dying gasp, will appreciate all the romantic irony.

Advertisements

About catnipkiss

I am a writer who is working on a travel memoir. I write about issues that speak to my soul: love, sex, yoga, spirituality, body image, dating and friendship, and more as it comes up! I love comments - thanks! What would YOU like to explore?
This entry was posted in love, travel, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

12 Responses to Death of a Disney Princess

  1. I think you could probably get quite some support for a mass princess slaying…

  2. No definitely not just you – I think Princess Jasmine would be top of my bump off list….

  3. borninwrongcentury says:

    I shall sorely hate to see her go. Her beauty has inspired since the dawn of Eve.

  4. borninwrongcentury says:

    Kinda like the Highlanders ?- nice notion, that.

  5. We should introduce our inconvenient Princesses. They may get along, go speed dating, hang out at sports bars, and leave us in peace.

  6. harriet bissell says:

    alas, many of us have had to dismiss versions of “the perfect mate”, the true beloved who adores us for our inner beauty, our soul. Disney pretty much didn’t get into that side of it. I always wanted to live in a MGM musical!!! Song and Dance, baby!

  7. Kye Sangha says:

    Reading Pablo is *perfect!*
    And yes, shred them ALL!

  8. The girl next door says:

    Hi Catnipkiss, Alas I turned 49 less than a month ago…I wish I were going with you to South America…I adore adventure and the unknown…it’s reality that has me grounded.

    Happy Early Birthday and may it be a great one.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s