When you wish upon a sham

I blame Walt Disney for all my relationship issues.

The very dastardly pretense that “someday my Prince would come” stunted my emotional growth from the moment I first saw Snow White melodically wishing at her well. You see, fantasy was my very first drug of choice. I felt locked in my own tall tower of angst and turmoil as early as age five, and for reasons unbeknownst to me I obsessed about being rescued from my reality. Back then it was Michael J. Fox and Corey Feldman who were supposed to slay my dragons and tell off my wicked [step] mother. But soon it became clear that Mr. Charming was not going to materialize and emancipate me from the personal hell of loneliness and despair. Later in life, when the beasts I dated abused my trust and imprisoned my liberties I was convinced that there really was a kind soul inside waiting to be magically revealed; I just wasn’t beautiful enough to break the spell. What did Belle have that I didn’t have? Why wasn’t someone searching for me to fit that lost shoe? Didn’t I deserve a Fairy God Mother?

In her book “A Return to Love,” Marianne Williamson tells us that these fairy tales are a metaphor for a spiritual awakening; that like Sleeping Beauty we are all hibernating and unaware of our real purpose. It is only “true love” that can shake off the delusion of separateness, and awaken us to our true purpose of life. That love is not romantic love, but true basic love and respect for all mankind; the kind of love that is the opposite of fear. Feh, tell that to a indentured Cinderella forced into emotional servitude by a world who never told her it was okay to be different.

It’s time to rewrite the half-baked misogyny of Disney and his army of descant woodland creatures. This Princess is taking power away from the nameless heroes who fell short of salvation. The truth is, I never needed saving at all. Reality is not always beautifully packaged in a flowing pink dress and our problems are not always as tangible as a wicked witch, but with a little of courage (the original pixie dust) we can create our own happily ever afters… and perhaps attract a Prince who doesn’t have a pathological damsel-in-distress complex.


  1. Trefom

    Why sadly? When women hit their 30s and 40s, they’re just starting to get interesting! Who needs 20-something children?

    The whole Disney princess phenom is very disturbing. I prefer my daughters watch women’s boxing!


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