Hey, Cinderella

On a cool night, I gingerly stepped outside in my heels. With my blue satin dress swirling around me and my pretend-diamond studs at my ears, I was Cinderella going to the ball. I swirled around as I clutched my purse, imagining dancing during the night. As I swirled between our cars in the garage, my heels began to twirl on a wooden floor. The band played slow jazz as I whisked about, spinning carefully through the crowds of people. My dress began to flare as I stopped in a pose.

"Get in the car before you freeze!" the cruel voice of reality broke my thoughts. "Let's go get some num-nums!"

We drove to the restaurant and enjoyed a lovely dinner. It wasn't easy to be Cinderella during dinner because my wool coat was itching my shoulders. The coarse fibers of the fabric were raking my skin out of spite.

After parking at the company building and taking a shuttle, I realized it is hard to be Cinderella when you are clomping through a parking lot downhill. As I did reverse lunges down a cement mountain, I prayed the straps on my shoes wouldn't break. I could see a disaster coming before me.

Clutching Ben's arm as we entered the convention center, I breathed a sigh of relief. The room was warm and open, with tons of people milling around. I shed my coat at the coat rack and stuffed Ben's pockets with my camera and lip gloss. For princesses in training, it is not easy being Cinderella while lugging around a camera.

As we walked around the event, acrobats spun through the air and ballerinas tiptoed over to us on 6-foot tall stilts. Jugglers were covered in florescent lights as bands played in the background. People danced, people ate and people watched in fascination as performers dangled from high in the air.

During the event, I decided it was time to take a journey. Seeking sugary smackerals, I wound my way through the crowds while I peered at the tables. Plates full of roast beef, potatoes, breads and delicious fruit lay before me. However, I declined them all in search of my sweet morsels. Gracefully dodging the crowd, I spun through crowds of people who all stared at me. At first, I was embarrassed. As a princess should not do, I had been worried about my outfit and had worried I would be under dressed. Now however, I spun through the crowd, pirouetting on my silver heels. With grace and ease I have not had since, well, ever, I danced my way to the dessert table.

And what lay before me but enough sugar to corrupt an entire preschool! Thick slices of cake and large bars of fudge lay appetizingly on silver platters. Basking in the glow of sugar, I walked around the table like a vulture, licking my lips. Suddenly- people swarmed the table. Hands appeared out of folds of dark cloth, plucking the culinary delights off their trays. The cookies were threatened! The cookies were threatened! I must save the cookies and protect their fragile exteriors from the clutching hands of the masses! How could people who had inhaled an entire roast beef appreciate the delicacy of a cookie? It was my quest to save them! I clutched a plate and saved the ones I could, beating a hasty retreat to the safety of my table. There, we were safe from the clutches of the sweet- stealers.

Soon, the night came to a peaceful end. We said good bye to the ballerinas and the stilt performers and waved farewell to the table of sweets. I was whisked back home by a shuttle and carried off to bed in a grey Jetta, where I settled in for a long sleep next to a handsome prince.

And when I awoke, I was no longer a princess clad in billowy gowns with grace and ease. I was the Blonde Duck, slapping at a hysterical alarm clock and wondering why I could not convince myself to sleep for a little longer.

However, deep inside the camera tucked away in my purse, the princess smiles. In there, she still exists, just waiting to return one day.