A Castle of My Own
I wanted to be Rapunzel. I was never going to cut my hair again. It was already long. I got lots and lots of compliments on it. I had people walk up and grab my hair, the length being an obvious unspoken offer for them to do as they pleased. They would pull on it, ask if it was real, if it took forever to wash or brush, how did I go to the bathroom with it.
I chopped it all off, a short bob like Snow White. It was suddenly much easier to maintain. It was brush-and-go nearly every morning. No weight hanging off my head meant no people grabbing it, asking silly questions. No length meant no more braids, no ponytails, no more fun accessories.
It grew longer, for awhile staying more along the lines of Cinderella length. I could do a few more things with it if I wanted. I played with braids, pins, and barrettes. And yet none worked as my hair was too thick to be held by any of the pretty things.
Over the next fifteen years it grew to Rapunzel lengths again. It passed my rear, then my knees, it was nearing my ankles. I was told often that I should cut it all off and donate to Locks of Love. It caught in doors, car windows, and various other things. I thought I was ready for a different look so I cut it again.
I liked the new length, for about 2 months. Then I missed my braids more than I thought I would. So it’s growing again and I’ve realized I’m just not the stereotypical princess.
I have Cinderella’s skill at being a hard worker. I mimic Snow White’s love of nature. I share an interest of spinning wheels with Aurora. I’m fierce like Meridia and rarely back down from a battle. I don’t live in their castles, I live in another castle; one of my own design. Though I’m still searching for my Prince Charming.