I Am Not a Princess

I am not a princess, because I don’t wear glass shoes. I wear shoes stained with mud because I jump in puddles just for the fun of it. It makes me feel free to do what I want, not what other people tell me to do.

I am not a princess, because when it comes to body hair, in the winter I look more like Chewbacca than Princess Leia, and I do it unapologetically. Whatever you might think, hair protects the body, and if it’s black it even goes with everything!

I am not a princess, because I wake up in the morning with messy hair, dried drool on my face, and pajamas stained with period blood, and I understand that this is all normal. I create masterpieces on my pillowcase because I forget to remove my makeup before I go to bed.

I am not a princess because the only castle I have is the pile of dirty clothes on my chair that I must remove one by one, until someday I’m able to conquer it. I’m not a model women, neither in terms of behavior, nor in terms of taking care of a house, a family, or my hair. Being a women doesn’t give you the special power to do all the work around the house.

I am worth more than a princess

I am not a princess or a weapon of mass seduction, because I’m not a mere sexual object that’s only there to please others. My life doesn’t revolve around just love or family; I have a job and a more complete life than I can even explain.

I’m not a princess because I live my sexual life freely, without waiting for a prince to come win me over. This sexual freedom doesn’t make me easy or a whore, it means that I experience my sexuality without guilt or other issues.

I’m not a manipulator obsessed with getting what I want by using my body and not letting myself be denied. Men aren’t so simple as to think only about sex, just like I’m not so foolish as to ask for respect and then make them bow down to my physical weapons. 

I’m not a princess, and neither are the women around me. They’re engineers, waitresses, soccer players, and reporters. They’re tall and short, blonde and brunette, thin and fat, but they’re certainly not princesses. We don’t have blue blood running through our veins, but we do get our periods. This blood is red and painful and comes with mood swings and acne. When it doesn’t come it scares us, and when it ends for good, we experience the pain of menopause.

I’m not a princess because I don’t belong to royalty, but I am a real woman. And like all the other real women around me, I don’t need a knight in shining armor to take care of me, because I know that princes don’t exist, because men are also normal people just like me.

You are not a prince

I am not a princess and you are not a prince. You don’t have a white horse and I don’t have a ballerina tutu. And just like you and your friends have your differences, we also have ours. That’s why there’s no perfect recipe for seduction. You like one thing and your friends like another, and the same thing happens with girls.

I am not a princess, and just like you, there is no instruction manual to my heart. There is no art of seduction, and insisting on trying to seduce a women after she’s already said no is a form of harassment. There’s no amount of delicacy or sweetness that is worth harassing someone. Either respect her or expect a restraining order.

I am not a princess, and you are not a prince, and at this point I hope that you understand that I am your equal. Princesses are for fairy tales, and you and I are for real life.

https://exploringyourmind.com/the-wounds-of-hyper-romanticism/