(This is a rewrite of a post that Blogger swallowed today)
All little girls want to be princesses, right?
All but me, that is.
When I was young, I would rather have been the king or the jester or the scullery maid (beautiful natch) than the princess.
Princesses had to stay clean, and pale, and soft, and couldn't run or sweat and had to take baths in goat's milk and patiently await until their prince came to nab them and start in on a life of producing heirs to the throne.
Princesses had to learn to dance. Princesses had to obsess over fashion. Princesses had to have someone else wash their private parts because they were too precious to touch themselves. Princesses had money but nowhere to spend it. Princesses couldn't pick their lovers and had to marry for their Daddy's power. Princesses had to go to bed early. Princesses had to ride in litters at the faire instead of walking amongst the smells and sights and sounds and tactile overload. Princesses had to be good. Princesses had to be dainty.
Princesses, to my mind, had no fun.
Much better to the be king, all-powerful, noble, war-like, scion, rampant, rougue, alpha, revered, dangerous.
Much better to be the jester, wearer of bright clothing, keeper of secrets, turner of tricks, teller of jokes, confidante, and spy.
Much better to be the kitchen maid, to carouse with the stable boys and knights and nannies, to feel warm sun on face and arms while scattering feed for the chickens in the early morning, to grab a meat pie from the larder before heading out to cut parsley and rosemary for the evening meal's meat, to lift your skirts for bonnie young men without thought to the carnality of the act or how "proper ladies' wouldn't do such a thing, to eat heartily, to wear comfortable clothing, to run rough hands through clean hair after a dip in the mill pond.
Nope, not a princess, not me.
Other fantasy characters I would be in lieu of the whole princess thing:
Wood nymph - able to speak to trees and write their stories in mushroom ink on white birch bark. Sleeps in a chestnut hull. Eats one blueberry a day in summer, one corn kernel a day in winter. Has the power of levitation.
Half-changeling gutter snipe - dirty but beautiful street child, who, at the age of 13 and on the cusp of womanhood, is discovered stealing a chalice from a tinker's stall by a young nobleman, who immediately recognizes her fierce spirit and trains her to be his personal bodyguard. Is tremendously strong and has preternatural jumping ability. (I have, uh, THOUGHT about this one for a long time....)
Cannibal queen - do you need to ask why? The human-skin bikini alone is reason enough!
So, what would YOUR alter-ego dress up as for the next masked ball?