WHY DID I REFUSE TO BE A PRINCESS?

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I realised that I wasn’t going to be a princess the moment I slipped into my first 13-centimetre high heels – and I became too high according to the standards of the jury… I realised that the more upright I stand and the higher I hold my head, in my attempt to reach the rail of common expectations, the more the crowns which I am obliged to wear – each according to the season will slip away from me… Either I will lose them somewhere behind me because the strong wind blows my hair or, I am in a hurry for somewhere or, … there is always something.

And the static situations of being a princess under a crown are in direct contradiction to the rhythm of my heart.

I realised that being a princess is a mass activity, in which the participants are more or less the same – girls from everywhere, all sorts of girls, unified by the idea of being somebody’s only mistress – of the heart or of something else. Specialising in castings, they wear almost the same clothes – the expensive style, they go to the same places – to see or to be seen, they have the same taste – unidentified and shiny and all of them are worthy of something – in front of mirrors, cameras, windows and eyes. Today’s princesses…

Having realised that mass activities and mass viewpoints neither look good on me, nor are my cup of tea, little by little I started giving up on them.

Somehow I underestimated the willingness of all the candidates for holding my hand and I refused a senseless number of rings. Either they didn’t fit or, God forbid, I kept losing them together with phone numbers, addresses, promises and invitations. What carelessness, isn’t it?!

And so, risking to be accused of bad manners or of total lack of taste (or common sense), I doomed these hands to be empty… in terms of presents.

I laughed at the attempts of people to lock me up behind huge gates and make me walk around elaborate columns and intricately painted ceilings. Just like that – instead of palaces, I was changing rented apartments, and instead of mansions, I was coming back… home. This is how I gained the disapproval and contempt of everyone… who had nothing else to offer me.

Loads of taxis passed me by because they were already busy to take the daily princesses to… their daily turn. I walked on foot – because I knew the way and because I could.

On many occasions I took off my high heels and I continued on my own, dooming myself to something which I cannot explain – not to be merely somebody’s – somebody’s princess, somebody’s now, somebody’s at dinner, somebody’s after dinner, somebody’s for a year, somebody’s till the morning or in the morning.

And the more explicitly I refused to be a princess, the more I was overwhelmed with questions.

Whose am I?

I gained plenty of disdainful looks in my face and behind my back, asking why, after all, my clothes looked good on me. Why was it that as if I was walking on a catwalk wherever I passed by? Why, after all, did they turn behind me – the NON-princess, too? What presumptuousness!

What right did I – nobody’s possession – have to dare look and feel good in my own skin?

Me – having refused to be a princess for a certain amount of time or under somebody’s command – after all, being equal to the rest of them, let alone exceeding them? Taking away their looks and their attention?! As I have already mentioned – what presumptuousness!

How dare I and those like me?! Because I am sure that I am not the last one to have given up on being a princess…

I wanted something else – to get up before everyone else so that I can have the time to do my make-up and get to work on time. To work a second job so that I can afford to live on my own. To keep silent and put up with discomforts so that I can feel comfortable to speak when I have objections. Not to sleep until noon but, after all, to dream my dreams and when I wake up, to pursue them…

By and large, I chose the hard way to be what even princesses sometimes wish to be – real.

Don’t get me wrong – I refused the social status of being a princess, but in my blood I remain one. I am beautiful in the eyes of one and only person, and they are able to devour me. They are not afraid to reproach me for my mistakes and are not aiming to lift me up when there is an audience…

For those who find me hard to swallow I am like sour grapes – should they not reach me, I will be bitter at least!

I chose to love straight. To have to give more love even if they return it to me. Not to have reward and thankfulness, but instead – faithfulness. To wait for love in return for love – not care, but consideration. I chose the gesture in place of the present. I learned the truly valuable before looking at the price tag.

I wished to be loved through the heart and with the heart – as it is in a fairy tale, under those invisible oaths, which are not kept with keys, rings or pacts, but which are promised – again, because of love. Again, because of the heart.

I wished to stay like this for myself – the only one for somebody for whom I have neither price, nor value, but am simply his – born for him even if I’m not a princess!

Text: Eva Koleva

Photo: BGNES

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