When I was in first grade, I wanted more than anything to be Cinderella. I found the picture book character, one I’d come across in the school library, the embodiment of glamour. From her sparkling full-length yellow dress, to her pair of smashing, see-through pumps; I coveted her clothes and her accessories, not to mention the stardust through which she walked.

Even as a child, I understood that becoming Cinderella wasn’t a realistic career choice. Unless you moved to California or Orlando, Florida.  I figured I’d run a candy store instead, or take up acting, just like Marilyn Monroe.

And yet, without realizing it, modeling Cinderella became my job.

Here’s the thing. Despite the knockout wardrobe, Cinderella had some serious flaws.

1. Cinderella played the passive victim.

Unwanted stepchild, when she wasn’t doing housework, she was daydreaming about men. She accepted her lot in life. Made no effort to better her cause. Sat idly by waiting for someone to come along.

When I was growing up, my parents were too wrapped up in their own adult troubles to sympathize with me.  Washing dinner dishes, delivering Avon orders, polishing furniture, I felt mistreated and misunderstood.

Sulking on the living room couch, one arm slung across my forehead, I dreamed that one day my prince would come and save me from slave labor. It never occurred to me that I would eventually grow up and be in the position to do it on my own.

2. Cinderella wasn’t exactly selective when it came to choosing men.

Sure, Prince Charming was a good dancer and a spiffy dresser. He had cool wheels. He lived in a castle.  Let’s not discount his admirable interest in women’s shoes. But Cinderella didn’t know jack shit about his personality, dreams, or goals. He could have slept with farm animals or worshipped Satan for all she was willing to discern. It was enough that he wanted her.

Here’s what I found impressive in the man I ended up marrying: he was getting his PhD in chemistry, he had a nice body and a furry chest, he had lots of opinions and he wasn’t afraid to defend them.  Here’s what I dismissed as unimportant: he was an Islamic Revolutionary, he’d grown up in a small Middle Eastern village, and he was intent on marrying a virgin and living in Iran.

Needless to say, there was no happily ever after.

3. Cinderella was a fake.

One stroke after midnight, Cinderella stood to lose the prince’s interest by reverting to her authentic self.  So convinced she was unlikable for whom she really was—a girl in a housedress who made clothes for mice— she fled the scene rather than reveal the truth. (What a lesson for an impressionable little girl.)

Believing I would lose my man with the passage of time, with the opportunity to get a glimpse of the real, authentic me, I flushed my birth control pills down the toilet to hurry the courtship process along.  Rushed headlong into marriage. Then hid behind a veil.

 

Here’s what I learned about ticking clocks, and magic wands, and fairytale princes: If you have to rush a relationship, it’s absolutely the wrong one for you. No one worth having will love you until you get real and love yourself.   Your authentic self will eventually reappear, no matter what you do. Princes are flawed, complex human beings, too.

Don’t wait around.  Be your own fairytale prince.

In short. Nice dress or not, Cinderella was a dumbass.

Now, what other flaws in Cinderella did I happen to forget?