The Smarter Stepsister

The blessing -- and picking out godparents -- has got me thinking a lot about fairy tales lately. Especially Cinderella.

Fairy tales are important. They teach vital life skills: be nice to that old lady, she might be more than just an old lady; keep your promises; crossroads are dangerous places. The Anansi tales -- best known to non-Gaiman fans as the Brer Rabbit stories -- teach us that brains usually win out over brawn. Important lessons, one and all.

Alas, the lessons they teach are also outmoded a little. Back in the day, a girl was often only as good as the husband she could land. Which is why the girls in the stories were always trying to land a prince.

(A side note: doesn't it seem dodgy that the stories always end with a wedding? Doesn't the complete lack of information about marriage seem... sinister? Plus, all the married women are the villains of the stories. Think about those life lessons.)

May's godmother has dealt with this issue by giving her a stack of books that are fairy tales outside of the usual mode. Not One Damsel in Distress, for instance, which, the title pretty much says it all.

But I keep thinking about Cinderella's evil stepsisters. Specifically the one who (in the pre-Victorian versions of the story, anyway) slices off hunks of her foot to fit into the slipper. Stupid bint.

I mean, if Cinderelly wants to wear dangerously impractical footwear and yoke herself to a guy who is so shallow he fell in love after one lousy dance, more power to her. Not me. Why make drastic and damaging changes to yourself to fit into what the story expects you to do? Just because the main characters are always marrying princes, doesn't mean you have to.

You just need to change the story. Or at least your expectations of the story. I think this one of the most important things I can teach May. If you don't fit a situation, change the situation, not yourself.

If you don't look good in this season's hip-hugger jeans, don't wear them. Wear long skirts instead. If you aren't happy working in an office, get a job where you can work at home. If you don't fit the damned glass slipper, put on a pair of boots instead.

And hey, if you happen to wear a perfect size six stiletto and possess an overwhelming desire to wear tight-laced corsets and a tiara, then hell, marry Prince Charming and enjoy it. But don't let the story bully you into it.