070114 It isn’t easy being the ugly stepsister. Everybody always feels so sorry for poor little Cinderella, but what about me? I deserve a little sympathy, too. Does MY fairy godmother ever turn up with a magic wand? Does the prince ever dance with me at the ball? Not on your life. The best I can ever hope for with my pumpkins is a decent piece of pie. And as for the rats, well, rats are rats, with their sneaky eyes and skinny tails, nibbling and gnawing at the garbage. I haven’t seen one yet who turned into a coachman.
If you ask me, that Cinderella is weird. Certainly, she isn’t normal. Besides the fact that she has naturally curly hair and wears size 4 1/2 shoes, she is so good-natured that it’s downright sickening. If you had to dust and sweep and clean all day long, would you go around singing to the birds? Of course you wouldn’t, no sensible person would.
Some people think I’m jealous of her. Maybe I am, but with good reason. I subsisted on seven hundred calories a day for three whole weeks before the ball. I got a perm and a facial and a manicure. I even bought a new gown, blue velvet, designer label. I mean, I was READY. “PRINCEY,” I thought to myself, “HERE I COME!”
And what happens? Little Cindy, who has never seen the inside of a health club before in her life and who doesn’t know the caloric difference between a carrot stick and a chocolate eclair, whips together a dress out of some old curtains from K-Mart, waltzes off to the ball and snags the prince.
It isn’t fair! It really isn’t fair!