Princess
by Maggie—Age 19—Chicago, IL
I was a teenage craft princess. I babysat 25 children per birthday party, corestted and covered in glitter. I made wishes come true and destroyed the whole prince charming fantasy for some kids by dating the pirate. Together, me, the B-day girl, and all her friends, would put on makeup and glue shit onto picture frames. We also danced to Hilary Duff, because nobody under twelve knows what Swan Lake is.
I worked for a party-throwing company owned by members of the Croatian mafia; two sisters who never bothered to show up for work. So at 16, Pirate (used alternately with Ninja and Mad Scientist for boy parties) and I ran the store. Our bosses forgot to pay us, and rather than complaining and being forced to sleep with the fishes, we stole from the store. A lot. I have drawers full of press-on tattoos and costume jewelry and eye patches that I will never use, and my bosses will never profit off of.
A lot of the time, I came to work drunk or hung over, but the children never noticed because I wore a lot of makeup and smiled more when I was drunk. I began to loathe the little brothers that tagged along to parties, and the stay-at-home-moms who never stayed home with their kids. I began to loathe Pirate, because he looked better in eyeliner than I did, and we broke up. I took up with the Ninja and it was heaven. But then he left me for Disco Diva, who could groove to H-Duff better than I.
I took the job because I was an “actress” and I couldn’t wear ballet slippers to Dairy Queen (I tried. They fired me). The hours were great–Saturdays for a few hours–and my bosses weren’t around to fire me. I never wanted a career. I wanted to get through school and start a family. I wanted to be a mom more than anything in the world.
I no longer want to be a mom. I want to be a spinster. Twice scorned by men who made a living playing dress up, I can’t imagine procreating with anyone anymore. And seeing a child of a certain age now makes my skin itch with a phantom glitter.
The store closed for lack of profit. The sisters opened a drapery store and I worked there, too. But it just wasn’t the same.
Ed. Note: Maggie writes that this piece led to an entire book, which you can check out on Amazon, here.
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