Story by Jazlyn Steins | senior | Midland High School
[This work comes from the Art of Storytelling class, taught by Julia Satterthwaite.]
Big, blue, bouncy ballgown.
That’s how 7-year-old me would describe the dress that made me feel like Cinderella at my daddy-daughter princess ball. That night I lived my fairy tale dreams.
As a little girl, my dream was to become a princess. I wanted the extravagant dresses I saw in the Disney movies. I wanted to go to the magnificent balls I watched in “The Princess Diaries.” Don’t get me started on the bedrooms, I wanted it all.
I had my mom redecorate my room to look like a princess’s. I’m talking floral comforters, a purple canopy draping over my bed, a pink table and chairs that turn into a castle when you stack them, and, of course, wall stickers of all of the Disney princesses.
Every day, I would put on my Cinderella dress and cover my face with the makeup from the phone kit I got from Claire’s. Little me, all dolled up, hoped that I would get noticed by a prince. Like a prince would casually show up to my house and instantly make me a princess. Yes, I know. I was indeed delulu.
If you scroll through my mom’s Facebook, you would see that from ages three to seven, I dressed up as a princess for every birthday. I was dedicated to becoming one of the royals. My birthday celebrations weren’t complete without tulle, glitter and crowns.
Not only would I look the part, but I would also act it. Whether it was in my living room, the field by my elementary school during recess or the back seat of my mom’s Honda CR-V, I would always be in character. This means that I would sing songs to animals or even to my “prince charming.” The fake scenarios I acted out are truly embarrassing now.
I was essentially the main character, and everyone lived in my world. But, if we are being honest, I miss how I was. I had no worries about what others thought. I was so confident that I believed that I could be a princess, or even was a secret princess — just like Princess Mia from “The Princess Diaries.”
I used to dare to wear my ballgowns out in public, not caring that I was overdressed, because there’s no such thing for a princess. Now, I get nervous just wearing a simple dress to school. I want to say it’s because I grew up, but it’s not that simple. I became more self-conscious. It felt like everything I did, what I wore and how I acted was going to be judged by someone. It felt like people were always watching. But honestly, no one really cares that much. I have to remind myself that everyone else is probably just as worried about themselves. If I wore a dress to school, most people wouldn’t even notice, and if they did, so what?
I’ve been trying to bring back that confident version of me, even if I have to fake it sometimes. If I saw someone walking down the hallway in a ballgown today, I’d be amazed. Not because of the dress, but because of the confidence. People like that inspire me. It takes guts to do something bold like that.
If I could talk to little princess Jazzy, I’d tell her that even if she grows out of the dresses, she should never lose her confidence. And when people have something to say, take it with a grain of salt, because most of the time, what they think doesn’t matter.
The night of the daddy-daughter princess dance, which I attended with my stepdad Keith, I could see all my friends acting like princesses and living out their dreams. But, confident little me knew that out of all of the little princesses there, I was the only REAL princess. You could tell by my blue plastic heels, how my blue ballgown puffed out around me, how I had my crown sitting on top of my perfectly styled hair, how I believed that I was an actual princess. Because deep down, I knew I was indeed royalty. Even if I have my big, blue, bouncy ballgowns tucked away, I will always try to keep a little bit of that fearless princess in my heart.