Snow White Not Sleeping Beauty

     After a brief discussion with my children I determined I have been walking like the witch in Snow White not the one from Sleeping Beauty. Thinking about the witch I realized I have more things in common with her than I once thought. 

     As I shuffle after my daughter with an apple in hand for her lunch I laugh an evil laugh at the thought of my missing tooth and straggly morning hair.  Had I not just been to the beautician my hair lacking pigment would closely resemble the grey hair of the old hag in the fairy tale. When my daughter asks a simple question I quickly reply, "NO!" because I am the mom(queen/witch).  I demand she cleans her room and helps vaccuum the floor because I must show my power over the poor powerless and beautiful child.

     I exhibit this same ruling power over all of my beautiful, younger Voyageur Crew members as I force them to clean cabin floors on their hands and knees.  Jealous of their youthful beauty I make them wear ugly staff t-shirts to try to conceal their beauty from all of the young princes who pass by. 

     Try as I may the wrinkles of my old age show through despite all of the cakey white makeup I use to conceal it.  Angry over the loss of my youth I stew in my castle with my side kick Rugby at the end of the Gunflint Trail.  Rugby thinks I am the fairest of all, for now.  What will happen when he realizes the fair young maidens who float weightlessly as they do their work at Voyageur are fairer than me? 

     Oh, these fairy tales never have happy endings for the Queens.  While the Queen may be intelligent and powerful she suffers because she only wants to posess youth and beauty. They always end up dying old, ugly and miserable because of their quest for the unattainable and their jealous rage.

     Is this really a fairy tale or is this real life?  I contemplate this as I brush my teeth and the spot where one tooth used to sit.  I look into the mirror and wonder about removing wrinkles from my face or plumpness to my lips.  Women diet, color their hair, get surgeries to reduce parts of their bodies and make other parts bigger.  Does this make them happy as they wait for a prince to come along?  Then finally when the prince does come does he really make them happy or was that just the dream of the man who wrote the fairy tale?  That a man could ride in on a white horse and with one kiss bring life, love and happiness to a woman?

     I’ll keep pondering this as I shuffle through the pharmacy aisles in search of a cane and a magic potion.