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A Real Disney Princess
by
Lisa A.
(Age: 17)
copyright 01-23-2006
Age Rating: 13 to 127
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Sometimes I feel as if I'm like a Disney Princess, Belle for example.
Belle is a simple, intelligent girl, but she finds love in an exotic way, and she finds happiness in the end. Maybe that is my awaiting destiny, but maybe everyone's lives aren't so perfect. For instance, beauty and happiness simply didn't cut it for Pixar [Shrek]. They insisted upon transforming back into their former selves, repulsive ogres...which is strange because that's sort of a slap in the face at Disney. What I'm getting at is this: do we all have perfect destinies like Disney Princesses, or are we the ones who have to take initiative to install happiness into our lives? Or in another case, do we go back to becoming ogres (lol)?
Don't get me wrong, I know that we have to put fourth some effort, but wouldn't it be nice if the perfect gentleman existed? A man who would remember important dates, open doors for you, tell you that you're his world, and make you feel like you're the most special woman on Earth? Does such a man exist? If anyone knows, send him over here, his Disney Princess awaits. She may not take the form of an elegant, beautiful female specimen, but we can't all accurately represent perfection in the form of a Disney Princess.
What is perfection? Perhaps it's not wearing the smallest size jeans or having the straightest hair. Maybe perfection is knowing what you want out of life, and knowing how to get it. Maybe perfection is having an instinct for what's right and what's wrong. Though views on perfection may differ, I feel inclined to state that the majority of women do not look like perfect Disney Princesses: so maybe we should all try to love what's real instead of what we pretend to be real.
Reality, what's real anymore? Certainly not your boobs or your face. Or if they are real, do you consider yourself to be lucky? It's possible that I may be getting too in-depth, but everyone seems to be fake. If you dress in black, you are Goth, but reality would infer that black is just your color. If your polo has a popped collar it implies that you are a prep, but wouldn't reality infer that your neck is just chilly? People pretend that the way they dress expresses themselves and declares who they are. Therefore, your clothes define who you are, but reality infers that clothes' only purpose is to shelter us from the elements. So, if clothes and stereotypes define who we are, then reality infers that we are all fake.
I am real.
Fin.
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