When I was growing up, I loved being read to and loved reading. I loved stories about castles and the princesses who lived in them. I would get lost in stories for days and could easily forget my current incarnation as Ronda. When I read fairy tales like Rumpelstiltskin, The Princess and the Pea, Cinderella, and Sleeping Beauty, I WAS A PRINCESS AND I LIVED IN A CASTLE . I knew those stories by heart. I built castles out of sand and boxes and sheet covered chairs. As I fell asleep, my bed became my castle, the floor a moat.
Me and Mrs. JonesI have had many careers in my life, but that was the first thing I ever remember truly wanting for my future. I longed to be a princess. To live a romantic life in a castle in which my every whim and desire was provided and attended to by everyone in residence. But, alas, being a daughter of hard working, responsible, practical, lower middle class, suburban parents, my royal reign never materialized. Instead, I was taught to be a hard working, self-sufficient, responsible individual. I found myself a hard working, self-sufficient, responsible husband. And although he can fix a mean toilet and put new windows and roof on our house, he doesn't have a gallant, white steed or a castle and he doesn't treat me like a princess. But now that I think about it, once upon a time, he did have a Mustang...a 1965, to be exact. Does that count? Anyhoo...
No one in my life ever gave me royal treatment except this man, "M."
Queen of Hearts
He was one of my best friends from high school and beyond. His step father was a well-to-do doctor and his mother was a connoisseur of haute couture. He was artistic, handsome and gay. Not something you wanted to be in Red Neck Country in the late 60s and early 70s. After a suicide attempt, and a court mandated stint in mental health, he got his stuff together and attended cosmetology school.
Partridge in a Pear Tree
For a few years after he got his license, he participated in hair show competitions. His specialty? The Fantasy Division. He picked me to be his model. Don't really know why. I'm not anywhere near the model type. I'm short, don't yearn for the spotlight and would be described as closer to cute than beautiful.
But he made me feel beautiful and spoiled me with a privileged existence. He took days and weeks trying my hair in different colors (pink, green, red, silver) and styles, had my gowns custom designed and sewn, spent hours picking exactly the right shade of lipstick and nail polish, arched my eyebrows, painted my nails and taught me how to walk a run way and behave with proper castle etiquette. In return, being the hard working, reliable one, I showed up to ALL of his numerous rehearsals, fitting appointments, make up appointments and the big events.
The Ice Princess
Yep, I'm wearing a candelabra on my head. It is large, silver, and wrought iron complete with crystals and lit candles.
The hair shows were nothing short of torture in many cases. Fun torture, but torture none the less. Those head pieces weighed a ton and I won't even tell you about how they were stapled to my head. Try wearing one all the while smiling and walking regally like a princess. But he won many trophies, gained notoriety, moved to San Francisco, about three hours to the south, and styled the hair of 70s celebs like The Pointer Sisters. He met his future husband, "B". Later they adopted two children, a boy with Autism and a daughter from an abusive situation. The kids are grown now and he no longer lives in Frisco but, he and "B" are still together and in love. "M" did get his fairy tale ending.
As for me? Thanks, "M," for letting me live "La Vita Princess." But being a princess can be hard work and I believe I'm happier with "La Vita Plain and Simple." Ta ta, royal subjects, ta ta!
