Ever After

Everybody knows the story of Cinderella.

It doesn’t matter where you grew up, or if you were rich or poor, or even if you had a mother/sister/cousin/aunt/grandma to read you the story. You’ve heard of it either way.

It’s a colossal, epic tale of love about a girl who beats all the odds to get her Prince Charming and her big castle, and most importantly, her happily ever after.

I’ve never been a particularly strong supporter of the whole “happily ever after” idea, mainly because I haven’t gotten mine, and by the way things are going, never will.

You see, I’m the real Cinderella.

Yeah. I bet you’re rolling your eyes as you’re reading this, thinking “oh, great, another one of those spoiled princesses who thinks she’s the greatest female role model in history” but before you jump to conclusions, let me explain.

Whoever wrote the whole Cinderella story on paper was clearly delusional. They obviously didn’t know the whole story. Or, for that matter, they were paid to keep quiet about it.

It started, obviously, with the whole poor good-hearted girl cleaning up after her rich, snotty stepsisters (okay, I’ll admit that part is true, although still definitely not one of my finest moments) that appealed to everyone. I mean, what better person for a heroine than the underdog girl.

But from then, it basically goes astray.

So that’s why I’m here. To set the record straight. To tell the real story. And whether or not you choose to believe me is completely your opinion. Just remember, next time you read a fairytale, to examine it. Don’t believe it right away, because you never know what’s the real truth.

Things aren’t always what they seem