I'm this chick with cheeks, on the right.

In case you don’t know me very well, there is something you should know: I was a Disney Princess in high school.  And no, I wasn’t the Little Mermaid unfortunately.  Really, let’s be honest, I painted my face silver and stood on the platform stairs behind the girl who played Belle as a lovely, dainty, tea-twirling spoon.  (I was also a villager, but the outfit wasn’t as sparkly so I tend to omit that part).  My mother has pictures if you’re really interested, and they almost all contain my “high school sweetheart” who is now happily dating the behind-the-scenes girl with the beautiful face.

It doesn’t usually end as happily ever after for the spoon.

I was reminded of this today because sometimes I like to listen to nothing in the car.  (Don’t worry I’m getting there).  When it’s been a bad, or hectic day the only tinge of something I can handle is silence.  On really inspiring days I pump Britney Spears and do little fist jiggles, throwing my hair around because that’s sexy, right?  (I whip my hair back and forth).  Other days, I’m staunch and growing a serious mustache, so I listen to NPR.

Then, days like today come when I’m overwhelmed by sound: trains squealing to a stop, jazz at the RR, coffee machines spurting, teenagers talking themselves into pants and out of trouble (it’s a long story), and then a three hour memoir workshop.  Silence usually happens to me on Thursdays when I have all of these things going on.  At about 845 on Thursday night I tend to even hate the sound of reading a text message inside of my own head.  I’m just sound-exhausted.

On special, magical days, I start singing to myself in the silence.  Usually, I hit the Whitney like all other car American Idols, but today I started with some humming and it quickly became, “Little town…it’s a quiet village…”  Next thing you know, I’m hitting all the high notes in my best Disney Princess voice; virginesque, sexy, shining, petal dainty, a bit of wildflower and cinnamon dashed in.  It hits me here, here comes the epiphany: I’m Belle. I’m still a Disney Princess.  Believe me by this point I’ve rounded out all the manly “Bonjour’s” and the scream of the fat lady, “I need … six eggs!”

I should really read audio books for a living.

I suppose I should prove this to you, so let the lyrics speak:

[Group Of Men]
Look there she goes that girl is so peculiar. I wonder if she’s feeling well.

[Group Of Women]
With a dreamy far off look.

[Group Of Men]
And her nose stuck in a book.

[Villigers]
What a puzzle to the rest of us, is Belle.

[Belle]
Ohhhhhh….isn’t this amazing?
It’s my favorite part because….you’ll see
Here’s where she meets Prince Charming
but she won’t discover that it’s him
till chapter three.

If I’m being honest with myself, and you’re being honest with yourself, I’m Belle.

Which leads me to my next point, how in the world did I become a Disney Princess overnight?  I didn’t sleep with a cucumber mask or a pea under my eight mattresses last night.   Pimple scars are still cropping red on my chin.   I didn’t put on a blue almost-petticoat (very freakishly similar to Alice).  There are no white ribbons in my sea weed locks.   I didn’t part my lips and sigh at the crack of a book (okay, yes I did).  But, I most definitely did not fly to Disney World and walk around the cobble stone streets with my basket containing only library books and one baguette.  There were no birds flocking to my car window mirrors and mice suddenly stopping in the middle of their garbage bin wrestle to hear my princess voice.  Of course, no black steed with a man-boy prince resting a toned buttox atop the leather saddle.  And even if he did somehow pop up from the suburbia landscape on my drive home, his hair wasn’t finely combed over with that one small curl winding at the center of his forehead.  He was probably sitting on his good friend’s couch playing video games.  (I actually know this for a fact).

Modern Day Belle

To further prove my point, I would put up the video of me singing Belle in the car because I did record it for your hearing pleasure, but now, I’m just feeling silly and blushy about it.   For my cop out, I’m going to post a picture of what I wore today instead.  What a modern day Belle would wear.

Please try to keep in mind that I took this before I realized that I’m Belle and that I deserve a crown for being such a fabulous Disney Princess, and literature snob.  Plus, now everyone knows I’m the girl who takes photo booth pictures almost everyday of my existence.  Thanks macbook, for making me even more narcissistic.

Also, I’m angry that my library does not have sliding ladders for me to rest against while I reach the top shelves where the books smell the most antique because they have been collecting dust for ages.  This inevitably means they’re probably poetry books.  And they should have an old fashioned yellow library card stuck between their pages.

I believe this image to your left shows already the over-analyzation of my coordinating Belle-like look for today.  Some may say I look like Miss Pillsbury from Glee without the sanitizer and latex gloves.  Really though, if Belle grew up and became a teen center counselor and a literary magazine lady, which she inevitably would —  she would be this girl, posing to your left.  I think the line, “Awkward & bookish” says it all here.

What was I thinking doing that deep of a head cock, I will never know.

Just for kicks and giggles, here are a few of my favorite princess videos.  If you have one that isn’t up here, send it to me.  I love retellings of fairytales where girls rule and boys drool.

At least watch this one ^ because it’s hilarious.  My good friend Gabs came in to town this week from Australia and she showed this to me and it made my night.  I am now learning all of the words so one day, I can be a not-Disney Princess.

I should point out that I live in fear of negative comments and this. is. a. joke. Thank you, and a have a good day.