Thank god for my mom. Maybe it’s because she spent copious hours in labor to birth me, or because of the fact we spend all our time together since I am her daughter – but really, it’s because she can read my mind.
One day, the two of us were watching the Food Network, sprawled out on the couch in front of the fireplace. Ina Garten was talking about the chicken pesto pasta she was making for her dearest Jeffrey (her husband, for any of you food haters), when my mom suddenly had the WORLD’S GREATEST IDEA.
“Let’s go see Frozen.”
If only my 5th grade PE teacher could see me then: I sprinted so fast up the stairs to change out of my pajamas that I gave Usain Bolt a run for his money (see what I did there with “run”?).
At the theater, we got our usual medium bag of popcorn, capable of feeding a family of 12, and a bag of Swedish Fish. I did most of the consuming. It wasn’t until we were sitting in our seats that I got a strange feeling. It was more like a nightmare, actually… I was drowning in a sea of five-to-seven year olds. The worst part of it all was that onlookers could easily tell my mom and I were the most excited ones there.
But we didn’t care. The movie was everything we expected… and more. Our laughter could be heard from miles away. I mean, come on! How does Olaf not realize cuddle rhymes with puddle! Such a snowman move.
I proceeded to see the movie three more times.
Why at the age of 19 am I still in love with Disney princesses? Correction: why are ALL girls in their late teens still obsessed?
Is it our underlying fear of growing up and joining the real world as adults? Abandoning our dependence on our parents? The fear we’ll end up alone? No husband? No children? Just cats? For me, only the ones without hair since I puff up like a tomato if I come within 30 feet of a feline. I’ll be the hairless cat woman. And I’ll waste all my nonexistent money on trying to maintain these hairless cats. Then I’ll end up getting evicted from my shitty apartment. So I’ll be the hairless cat homeless spinster. Oh, HELL NO!
Or maybe we still like Disney Princesses because they’re fucking awesome. And here is why:
1. Elsa – first off, she is a queen! So get that right. She is okay with riding solo to rule her kingdom. Look how progressive and accepting Arrandale is!
2. Rapunzel – she isn’t afraid of strangers. She’ll run away with them, but she will beat the shit out of you with a frying pan if you cross her.
3. Belle – even if you do lock her up in complete solitude, she will love you for who you are. No matter how badly you need to shave.
4. Mulan – she will make a man out of you. Guaranteed.
I could go on. But just because we don’t spontaneously break out in song and dance doesn’t mean we can’t still relate to these princesses. I mean, after all, aren’t we all looking for a Prince Charming? I’ve got dibs on Prince Eric, ladies. Yes, part of me wants to latch on to my childhood; to the days when I could dress up as Tinkerbell publicly and not get concerning looks.
So go binge-watch all your VHS’s of every Disney Princess movie ever. The cold never bothered Elsa anyway, so why should anyone bother you for your love for quality entertainment?!