FRO 2012: BWA

When I was younger, my Ariel and Snow dolls were my best friends. Aurora was too, but at some point, she disappeared into the jaws of a ferocious dragon, whom I forgave later on, since this was his first offense. We drank tea in the common area and chatted about the weather; but deep inside, I was admiring each of my guests-oh what I would do for her red, luscious hair or her fair complexion. My admiration quickly turned into jealousy. And that’s when I wondered why they never made any villainess dolls. I mean, what made them villains in the first place? Was it because they were old? Ugly? Fat? Technically, it was ONLY Maleficent who was not invited; why shouldn’t she be upset?! And maybe, Ursula was just trying to teach Ariel a lesson that obviously King Triton did not teach well. Before this revelation, I would regard any ugly, fat and or old person with special suspicion. I remember this one instance when I followed my mother next door to check on our sick neighbor. I’ve never met her before and was curious. I peered through the old curtain and saw a large black crow in a cage, with its beady black eyes burning a hole into my head. Just then the door opened and an old lady with sagging wrinkles on every inch of her body welcomed us in. I surveyed the room; there was dust sprinkled on the couch, which I reluctantly sat down upon. In the corner stood something that made me shriek on the inside. It was a cat, or at least it was a cat. It was fat and stood stiff with a malicious smile forever curved on its face. I looked away long enough to observe my host. She wore dark, semi-stylish (at least for a grandma) clothes that clung to old aging bones. She was plump with arched, penciled in eyebrows, faded blood red lips and a mottled green-gray undertone to her skin which ran through its supply of collagen ages ago. That night, as I went through my nightly Disney movie ritual, it hit me like a ton of unrelenting bricks that were mocking me for being so oblivious. It was the stuffed cat I had seen, it was Lucifer, I was sure of it! I hyperventilated a little bit, being the asthma-prone kid I was. It all made sense; her house, her face, the crow! For the next few weeks I watched any and all activity around her like a hawk. The final straw was when she plopped a bright red apple into my Halloween pumpkin tote bag full of snickers, kit kats and gummies. She gave me a toothy grin as she shut the door in my face. Needless to say, the apple went into the trashcan when my mother had her back turned. It took me a week to plan and execute an infiltration/spy mission into her home; I would not sit idly by just waiting to be poisoned, or have my soul stolen. One, late afternoon, when I was supposedly taking my nap, I snuck into her backyard and cautiously peeped into the window. I only had a few minutes to snoop. What I did see, shocked me. Plastered all around her wall were pictures of a beautiful woman. Her beauty blew all my Disney princesses out of the water. Just as I was admiring the woman in the pictures and wishing how I could be like her, the old woman walked into the room and saw me peering in. I ran like the wind, hoping she wouldn’t catch me and hoping even more so that she didn’t have any special children-napping powers. As I lay in my bed that night, I realized that it was actually her in the photos. Maybe it was the post traumatic stress that was speaking, but something in me told me that it was her who used to be the beautiful, princess-like woman. The next day, my mother took me to the Disney store and told me I could pick one toy. I had my eyes on Jasmine for a while, but I chose to look for Ursula or Maleficent. After a long thorough search, I proudly lifted a small, dingy maleficent figurine to my mother. She grimaced and asked me if that was really what I wanted. Wouldn’t you rather have the pretty Jasmine doll? She goaded. I suddenly became angry. Why did Disney have to portray villains like this? Was it really their fault that they were who they were, that they were born ugly and or fat? And if Disney were accurate, then won’t we all, just like my old neighbor, no matter how beautiful we are now, become villains in the end?