I lead a princess life. At least in my head I do. When fancy crystal goes on sale at the high-end kitchen store where I work, I think, "I need 12 goblets! For when I have all those formal sit-down dinner parties for 12 friends!"
This little fantasy is spoiled only by the nagging realization that I do not even know 12 people, let alone 12 people that could stand to be in the same room with me for two or three hours and eat my cooking.
I buy the goblets anyway. For my princess life.
I also have an ice-cream maker. For my princess life.
And an espresso machine. (Wait-- let me guess.)
In my princess life, I know lots and lots of people and have lots and lots of friends and have lots and lots of time to do lots and lots of entertaining. And apparently my princess alter ego must also have lots and lots of money to pay for all this fantasy entertaining.
Nevermind that I start sweating like a pig when I remember that my (one) friend is coming over (by herself) for coffee in 20 minutes and the house is still a disaster and I have not even brushed my teeth yet. Noooooo, I don't get stressed out before entertaining! I run around throwing random newspapers into the recycle bin and scooping up shoes of all genders and sizes and shoving them into the front hall closet.
Ugh. Princess needs a maid.
Then, I realize I am running out of time and therefore must take the easy way out-- shut the door to master bedroom and kids' room. The kitchen looks, well, like The Husband made a gourmet dinner last night and I have not attempted to clean it yet. I valiantly start scrubbing.
Oh, to heck with it. I will keep my friend out of the kitchen too.
Why do I have this bizarre princess life with all the accoutrements? Sterling silver flatware? check! Wedgwood china, service for 20? bien sur!
On the rare occasion when we do host friends, we typically eat on the back patio and use the default setting paper plates with flowers printed on them from The Party Place. Convenient. Realistic. Not very princess.
Did I mention our dining room table can accommodate four people? on a good day? and yet ... I am inexplicably drawn to the Russian jacquard linen and silk tablecloth that mocks me from the shelf at the high-end kitchen store.
Pizza is our favorite meal. How can I align this to my princess life?
As a corollary, I also own about eight thousand sparkly barrettes for my princess life. Really? I need that many? To go with what, exactly? my sweatpants? I realized it was getting a little out of control when The Husband knocked over the basket that I keep all the princess barrettes in. They went all over the bathroom floor. I heard the clanking, and rushed in to see what was going on. He started scooping them up and said naively,
"Who do all these hair clips belong to?"
("Magical Overstated Venus")