Tag Archives: fairy tales

Letter to Prince Charming

Dear Prince Charming

I don’t know who you are, or where you are?

I’m assuming you:

a) are riding on a tortoise as opposed to a white charger
b) missed the bus
c) are delayed slaying dragons

** Delete as appropriate (but please choose your answer wisely!)

Whoever, and wherever you are I hope you’re worth the bloody wait!

But I guess whilst I’m waiting you should know a little about me and what you need to do to win this fair lady over ….

If you’re expecting a short, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, big boobed doll you may as well just carry on riding. Sorry to disappoint, but I’m a tall, long-legged bird with brown hair and eyes that tend to change colour depending on what I wear.

Despite all the knocks that life has dealt me, I still believe in romance, I believe in happy-ever-afters, I believe in love and most of all I will believe in the man who will act like a gentleman and never stop choosing me for the rest of his life.

I’m rubbish at dating, I can’t “play the game” and don’t know the rules.

I won’t text often, only if you get in touch with me so it may appear like I’m  a bit of an ice queen as I get to know you (I’m not though)) but seeing as you’re Prince Charming, isn’t it your job to pursue me and keep me keen?

I will believe and trust in you that you will not be the kind of man to disappoint me.

I know all about “the man cave” so if you tell me you’re busy, I will respect your need for space to sort out whatever stuff it is you’re going through and won’t contact you at all, but wait until you are ready to talk. That doesn’t mean I don’t care, I would (probably too much) and will miss you.

I’m weird, kooky and quirky, so you’d best be prepared for: me to walk along the edge of the pavement, swing around lampposts, jump over puddles, steam up the stairs 2 at a time (always 2 steps, never one at a time), my shoulders to unconsciously start moving along to music, random dancing, my imagination and a million and one other types of craziness. If you can accept this, great, if you care to join me, even better 😉

I’m also a serious, smart girl. I think way too much, over-analyse everything but I know my worth.

I have standards and I don’t share men. If you knock on my door and continue weighing up various options, I will not hesitate in slamming the door and removing myself from the option list.  After all I’m not a one in a million kind of girl, I’m a once in a lifetime girl!

I believe in action over words. If you want me you need to pursue me, make me feel like I’m the only one, move mountains to be with me, make me feel loved, prove to me that you want this more than I do and most importantly be the man to prove to me that you are not the same as all the rest.

I want someone who will call or text me without reason, wants to see me, gets jealous and over-protective and loves me for me.

I don’t just want a physical connection, I crave an emotional and spiritual connection. I want to know the real you and you to know the real me.  If you can seduce my mind, my body is yours, if you can find and connect with my soul, then I’m yours forever.

When you’ve won my heart, it won’t be because I need you, it will be because I want you – pure & simple.

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Friday Poem – Cinderella

Roald Dahl (1916-1990) is one of my all-time favourite authors.charming

If you get a chance to read his first autobiography”Boy: Tales of Childhood”, do. It’s brilliant, especially the bit with the dead mouse, and you will never quite look at liquorice in the same way again!

Anyway, not only is he the author of such classics as Charlie & the Chocolate Factory, James & the Giant Peach and Matilda, amongst others, but he also wrote some rather revolting rhymes 😉 and seeing as we are still in Pantomime season (just) I thought I would use this fabulously funny poem about Cinderella, which reminds us that sometimes Prince Charming may not be quite so charming underneath!

Cinderella

I guess you think you know this story.
You don’t. The real one’s much more gory.
The phoney one, the one you know,
Was cooked up years and years ago,
And made to sound all soft and sappy
just to keep the children happy.
Mind you, they got the first bit right,
The bit where, in the dead of night,
The Ugly Sisters, jewels and all,
Departed for the Palace Ball,
While darling little Cinderella
Was locked up in a slimy cellar,
Where rats who wanted things to eat,
Began to nibble at her feet.

She bellowed ‘Help!’ and ‘Let me out!
The Magic Fairy heard her shout.
Appearing in a blaze of light,
She said: ‘My dear, are you all right?’
‘All right?’ cried Cindy .’Can’t you see
‘I feel as rotten as can be!’
She beat her fist against the wall,
And shouted, ‘Get me to the Ball!
‘There is a Disco at the Palace!
‘The rest have gone and I am jealous!
‘I want a dress! I want a coach!
‘And earrings and a diamond brooch!
‘And silver slippers, two of those!
‘And lovely nylon panty hose!
‘Done up like that I’ll guarantee
‘The handsome Prince will fall for me!’
The Fairy said, ‘Hang on a tick.’
She gave her wand a mighty flick
And quickly, in no time at all,
Cindy was at the Palace Ball!

It made the Ugly Sisters wince
To see her dancing with the Prince.
She held him very tight and pressed
herself against his manly chest.
The Prince himself was turned to pulp,
All he could do was gasp and gulp.
Then midnight struck. She shouted,’Heck!
I’ve got to run to save my neck!’
The Prince cried, ‘No! Alas! Alack!’
He grabbed her dress to hold her back.
As Cindy shouted, ‘Let me go!’
The dress was ripped from head to toe.

She ran out in her underwear,
And lost one slipper on the stair.
The Prince was on it like a dart,
He pressed it to his pounding heart,
‘The girl this slipper fits,’ he cried,
‘Tomorrow morn shall be my bride!
I’ll visit every house in town
‘Until I’ve tracked the maiden down!’
Then rather carelessly, I fear,
He placed it on a crate of beer.

At once, one of the Ugly Sisters,
(The one whose face was blotched with blisters)
Sneaked up and grabbed the dainty shoe,
And quickly flushed it down the loo.
Then in its place she calmly put
The slipper from her own left foot.
Ah ha, you see, the plot grows thicker,
And Cindy’s luck starts looking sicker.

Next day, the Prince went charging down
To knock on all the doors in town.
In every house, the tension grew.
Who was the owner of the shoe?
The shoe was long and very wide.
(A normal foot got lost inside.)
Also it smelled a wee bit icky.
(The owner’s feet were hot and sticky.)
Thousands of eager people came
To try it on, but all in vain.
Now came the Ugly Sisters’ go.
One tried it on. The Prince screamed, ‘No!’
But she screamed, ‘Yes! It fits! Whoopee!
‘So now you’ve got to marry me!’
The Prince went white from ear to ear.
He muttered, ‘Let me out of here.’
‘Oh no you don’t! You made a vow!
‘There’s no way you can back out now!’
‘Off with her head!’The Prince roared back.
They chopped it off with one big whack.
This pleased the Prince. He smiled and said,
‘She’s prettier without her head.’
Then up came Sister Number Two,
Who yelled, ‘Now I will try the shoe!’
‘Try this instead!’ the Prince yelled back.
He swung his trusty sword and smack
Her head went crashing to the ground.
It bounced a bit and rolled around.
In the kitchen, peeling spuds,
Cinderella heard the thuds
Of bouncing heads upon the floor,
And poked her own head round the door.
‘What’s all the racket? ‘Cindy cried.
‘Mind your own bizz,’ the Prince replied.
Poor Cindy’s heart was torn to shreds.
My Prince! she thought. He chops off heads!
How could I marry anyone
Who does that sort of thing for fun?

The Prince cried, ‘Who’s this dirty slut?
‘Off with her nut! Off with her nut!’
Just then, all in a blaze of light,
The Magic Fairy hove in sight,
Her Magic Wand went swoosh and swish!
‘Cindy! ‘she cried, ‘come make a wish!
‘Wish anything and have no doubt
‘That I will make it come about!’
Cindy answered, ‘Oh kind Fairy,
‘This time I shall be more wary.
‘No more Princes, no more money.
‘I have had my taste of honey.
I’m wishing for a decent man.
‘They’re hard to find. D’you think you can?’
Within a minute, Cinderella
Was married to a lovely feller,
A simple jam maker by trade,
Who sold good home-made marmalade.
Their house was filled with smiles and laughter
And they were happy ever after.

*********************

Don’t we all wish for a decent man 😉

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Is perfection ever attainable?

I only ask, because the other day I overheard a window cleaner saying to his mate that “the perfect woman doesn’t exist!”

And how many times are women heard bemoaning the fact that the perfect man isn’t out there either?

Are we all actually just striving for something that, in the end, doesn’t exist?

Who decides what makes a perfect man/woman?

We all know the sterotypes that are thrust upon us via various mediums – tall, dark, brooding and handsome men, and stick thin women, with perfect hair and skin, or blonde, blue-eyed with big …!

And as children, fairytales are all very well and good, but do women ever get the literary knight in shining armour who will fight to the death for her, and likewise do men get the beautiful perfect princess?

With the opposite sex put on extremely high pedestals for us, is it any wonder that after searching for perfection we seem to just give up, or settle and then bemoan our not-so-perfect partners’ foibles!

But would perfection be in fact perfect?

After all, if you had the stick-thin, perfect haired model could you put up with her eating nothing, except maybe the odd bit of tissue paper, and smoking like a chimney to stave off the hunger pangs, or if she did eat, hold her hair for her whilst she made herself sick out of guilt that she may have just eaten something that would put on an ounce?

Or if you had the dark, brooding handsome type, would it get a bit too boring with all that brooding and not any mental action?

And because we are all seem to be striving to find the ‘perfect’ partner, when we hit a curve in the road, or a not-so-perfect one time after time, the pedestal starts wavering and then tottering and then falls over and smashes on to the ground leaving us feeling that we are not worthy of that ‘perfect’ love because of all the hurt we have endured and that all members of the opposite sex are bar stewards/b**ches ** [** delete as appropriate]

And once we fall into the trap of believing in the stereotype, i.e., all members of the opposite sex are…, that apparently is a rut we stay in until we snap ourselves out of it. So every potential partner we meet, instead of seeing the good, our subconscious tells us that it will all end badly and therefore we get what we deserve. Our words, thoughts and feelings form our realities, as they say

I have been in this rut for so many years I have lost count – previous encounters left me feeling that I am unworthy of being loved, therefore with each new encounter I try too hard and end up constantly being treated like a doormat with no feelings. That is my failing, no one else’s. My experience has led me to fall into the belief that all men will walk all over me, and consequently that is what has happened. I need to realise that it is not true of all men, there are some good ones out there … somewhere, and that I need to treat any new encounter as just that. A new encounter – with no hang-ups about Mr Wrongs past.

Everyone is worthy of being loved for who they are, even me, and everyone deserves to be respected for who they are.

We are all individuals, each uniquely different, with amazing qualities if we care to look beneath the surface.

Maybe we need to smash the ‘perfect man/woman’ ideal and become more flexible in our perception of perfection, then we will be able to find that there is a perfect someone out there for all of us?

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