At least that’s the common belief. But I have to tell you, it ain’t true. I may have played at being a princess with my friends, but it definitely wasn’t what I wanted for my life. I wanted to be an actor or a writer. (And there was a brief stint of wanting to be a waitress. Yeah, I don’t know what that was about. I’m sure my career aspirations scared the mess out of my logical, practical parents.)
We’ve romanticized the idea of being a princess. It means being special, wealthy, loved. And so we think, “hey, if we can make girls feel like princesses, they’ll understand their self-worth.”
I wandered, browsing as I walked. I wasn’t really looking for anything. Just looking. I strolled down the stairs, and as I came around the corner, I saw it. The desk. Scratched and dusty, it looked like life had been hard on this beautiful black desk. It wobbled a little as I touched it. I ran my fingers across its surface, leaving streaks in its protective coating of dirt. Stickers dotted across it announced a price of $40.
Most people probably saw the scratches and walked away. Usually I see scratches and I think about a way to cover them up. But not this time. This time, I actually liked the scratches. Scratches and nicks are life. Heaven knows if I were a piece of furniture, I’d have plenty of scratches. (more…)