Call me strange (you won't be the first). I can't recall ever wanting to be a princess.
I did watch The Little Princess with Shirley Temple when I was little. But I didn't want to be Princess Shirley who is happily reunited with her amnesiac father at the end of the movie. I identified with the raggedy little orphan Shirley who lived in the dark, cold attic with the Indian servant girl bringing her tea and crumpets to make sure she stays alive.
Poor wretched little thing. I loved her somber black cape and her shiny tap shoes.
Before you get the wrong idea, I was not an orphan. Or poor. Or raggedy. I mean, I grew up in Connecticut for crying out loud. There are no raggedy people in Connecticut.
I guess I just had a dark side, right from the start.
~ I love made-for-TV Lifetime Movies starring Mare Winningham as a homeless abused terminally ill mother of four during the final Christmas season of her poor wretched life.
~ I love The Hours, one of the all-time-most-depressing movies in the world.
~ And my shelves are full of books with jacket descriptions that include the words Tragic, Somber, Heart-Breaking and Bleak.
It's a good thing I'm so funny.
Otherwise I'd be downright depressing.