As a little girl (and even as a not-so-little-girl), I was obsessed with everything princess-related. My favorite books were The Princess and the Goblin, A Little Princess, and The Princess in the Tower, and I loved any fairytale or any film that had anything to do with the regal beauties. I daydreamed my youth away pretending that I was a princess from a magical land far, far away, and not unlike most of the girls I knew growing up, I was completely obsessed with Disney. I loved and admired every single Disney princess for her own sense of strength, courage, love, and of course, beauty. I spent my days secretly wishing to be like them — to dress like them, have hair like them, live where they lived and have adventures like they had.
Then came that dreaded time where youth turns into adolescence, and my love for Disney (although staying very much alive), took a backseat to the more urgent, pressing matters of a girl becoming a teenager. My daydreams of being a Disney Princess would have to wait, for my time was suddenly devoured by worry and stress over how to style my actual hair, how to dress and pick out my actual clothes, and how to live and be happy in my actual life. No one prepares you for these changes. One day you are daydreaming away about a beautiful and fantastical life, then the next you are faced with the cold-hard reality that life isn't as whimsical or fantastical as you'd dreamed. It's cold, cruel and sometimes terrifying.
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