(Continued from PRINCESS PT. 2)
I wish I had a nickel for every time some schmuck called me a 'princess.' Everyone I know, at one time or another, has labeled me 'Princess Tod,' 'La Princessa,' 'Her Ladyship' or 'J.A.P. Bitch.' Not only am I not offended by these remarks, I consider them a great compliment. Being recognized for my carefully cultivated J.A.P. (Jewish American Princess) persona, is far more meaningful than the attention I usually receive for trifles like my eerily youthful, bought-and-paid-for complexion or ridiculously overpriced John Varvados shoes. My smugness comes from the profound belief that the world would be a far better place if everyone, everywhere would do as I say at all times.
Last week, as a token of his love (fear) my husband George presented me with an actual crown. Gaudily encrusted with fake jewels, replete in red velvet, and trimmed in blindingly white imitation ermine, it was the ugliest, most ostentatious thing I had every seen. It was love at first sight. My son gingerly placed the weighty crown upon my head and all at once I was magically transformed from middle aged, fatty-fat, suburbanite dad, into the fairest of them all. I could practically hear that stupid CIRCLE OF LIFE SONG from LION KING ringing in my ears as my husband, son and dog knelt before me.
In light of my recent coronation, the irony of being tackled by six burly Prince Charming security guards at Disneyland's Ariel's Grotto was not lost upon me. As a sobbing Belle was lead away by Cinderella and Aurora, my fellow pilgrims ran for their lives, the woodland creatures scurried away, and I struggled under the weight of Snow White's personal security force while protesting loudly that I was also 'royalty' and like the Disney Princesses had been recently crowned. Clearly my 'explanation' fell on deaf ears as Snow White smiled sweetly, made sure no one was looking, and then took the opportunity to kick me in the side of the face.
The blood flowed profusely from my mouth as Snow White sunk to one knee and in her Saccharin sweet voice hissed in my ear,
'Listen J.A.P. boy, I had your number from the second you walked in here. Just because daddy let you max out his AMEX Card at Saks doesn't make you a princess, it just makes you an asshole. Now, try and muscle in on our territory again, and you'll be the one left in an irreversible coma awaiting love's first kiss.'
Snow White daintily rose, and in the same sickeningly sweet, treacly voice, directed her goons to 'escort' me from Ariel's Grotto. The Prince Charmings eventually dumped me in a secluded portion of the cruelly named 'Mickey and Friends' parking structure. My head throbbed mightily as I shuffled to my car. I first checked my puffy, bruised reflection in my rear view mirror, winced and then started my car.
As I drove home, I reflected on the day's chaotic events. Like my unworthy, heretical son Ethan, I too had been cast out of the Kingdom of Heaven. Not only was I to never kiss Walt's Jew-hating frozen lips, thanks to Snow White, I was also 86'd from Ariel's Grotto and put on their terrorist watch list. Further, Snow White had managed to confirm my deepest fears that not only was I not a princess, but in reality was a spoiled, self-centered, princess-poser asshole.
Before I could descend headlong into the usual broken record of self-hatred that repeats endlessly in my mind, a sudden beautiful thought twinkled before me. Despite my bruised jaw, I smiled broadly for I realized that Snow White may have beat me down as a princess, degraded me in front of her subjects and ruthlessly cast me out of the Kingdom of Heaven, what that whore didn't realize was that thanks to my queer-as-a-three-dollar-bill 'birthright' this J.A.P bitch might not be a true princess, but was sure as fuck a queen.