Cinderella

Our task for writing group this week was to rewrite a fairy tale in a modern setting.  While not following the assignment exactly, this is what I came up with.  P.S.  It's a few days later and I'm actually still pretty upset with Cinderella...

Dear Cinderella,

I know you are a scapegoat here, but I’m blaming you anyways.  Why did you teach us all that with one bippity boppity boo a pumpkin could be turned into a viable means of transportation and that mice and birds would make us beautiful ball gowns?  Why have you become our example of midnight kisses and princes that search high and low for us?  Men who love us no matter what we are wearing the day after, no matter our social class or our awful family.  Why do you put a magic seed in our girly hearts promising us that all dreams come true?  And don’t get me started on that darn set of shoes you wore!

      Cindy, let’s take a look at reality here.  I have 4 pumpkins setting on my porch right now.  And no matter how many times I shake a stick at them, all they do is sit there and rot.  The car I do have, I paid too much money for, and I pray incessantly that it will not break down and make me look like an even bigger fool for buying it. 

And, let’s talk about the birds and rodents, shall we?  I remember that the mice at my old house did not make me a new ball gown, instead they chewed on my beautiful wedding dress, you know, the one I spent five hundred dollars on---and destroyed it, not to mention ruining some of my son’s cutest baby clothes.  And the last time a bird got into my house was when I was on vacation.  It was trapped in my house for several days and it pooped everywhere, making me feel like you in your early years of scrubbing and washing every square inch of the house down. 

Now, let’s discuss the prince.  Yes, I know I married one.  But, let’s be honest here.  Cinderella, why must you share your story in a way that portrays love happening in an instant?  It took David and I two years to even decide to date.  As blessed as I am with the man, marriage is hard.  Very rarely can we even hold our eyes open until midnight, let alone steal a moment for a tender kiss.    Girl, I don’t know how you found a powerful man who would run all over the countryside for you, when most women feel it is a bonafide miracle if their husband helps clean up after dinner.  It’s just not fair for you to rub all that perfectness in our face.

      Nor is it fair that you promise for dreams to come true.  I look around and I see widows and widowers, with tears falling as their heart aches for their true love, mourning for the one who they argued with about leaving the toilet seat up or spending too much money.  I see couples who have a mortgage on a little house that is falling down around them, and not a royal couple living in a pristine castle, debt free.  I see fights over laundry, tears over hurtful comments, and besetting sins that seek to steal the joy right out of a marriage.  Sometimes, if you look hard enough, you’ll even seen loveless marriages.  

   Tell me, Cinderella, why did your fairy tale have to come along and make us all feel like our own little love stories are inadequate?

   I know tomorrow I’ll probably wake up feeling bad for all the things I said to you, Cinderella.  Even now I regret the bitter tone I’m using with you.  But, girl, you have to realize that life isn’t a fairy tale.  It’s not fair to keep pretending it is. And by the way, we all know you are pretending.  Because no woman I know could ever run in glass heels.

            I’m sorry for ruining your reality, but you keep ruining ours. 

                          Sarah