If I was a princess I’d first take a few minutes to revel in my new found power to get other people to do stuff for me. I now have, within my beautifully bejeweled hand, the hearts and minds of millions of pre-teen girls and boys. These impressionable youngsters will concede to my every will and desire because I’m hot and popular and maybe / probably in distress and / or danger. I swim in my new found power like Scrooge McDuck in his money vault! Girls want to be me. Boys want to get with me. There has never been a more deeply motivated bunch. Check out any given fairytale or grade school classroom. Popular, hot, distressed girls get people to do seriously sociopathic stuff. See: The Legend of Zelda, Orpheus, Heathers, that really hot girl that sat next to me in 7th grade science class.
If I was a princess I’d dress the part. No more of this demure, woman of the people crap. I want serious taffeta. I want pearls and corsets and all that junk. And tiaras. There would be a hell of a lot more tiaras; it’s not a hat, it’s not a head band, it’s the only really reliable way to get diamonds to stick in your hair. Being not quite Princess, I’ve tried just combing the diamonds in, I’ve tried affixing them permanently like little hair plugs for the rich and balding but nothing makes my locks go BLING like a tiara. See: Queen Alexandra of Russia, drag queens taking it to the next level, my Halloween costume as Miss. Saudi A-Labia circa 2001.
If I was a princess I’d eat eggs every day for every meal. Because nothing says; ‘I’m lord-ette of the land’ like consuming an animal’s unborn. Caviar, roe, quail eggs, veal eggs, fiddleheads, the whole lot. Animal Kingdom, you’re my bitch and to prove it I’m going to tuck in to a big ol’ portion of your potential offspring. The key word is potential. I could eat your already living young and that would be a statement and all but that’s after they’ve been born and you’ve gotten to know them a bit. Sure it’s bad-ass and royal to eat baby cows and pigs and ducks and ferns but not bad-ass enough because maybe the kid’s been born and he’s cute and all but he’s a pain in the ass and doesn’t sleep through the night and has his grandmother’s beak and his mother’s love of spending money that’s not hers and maybe it’s not so bad that he’s ‘taken for a walk’ in the middle of the night and doesn’t come back. Maybe you’re sad for a few days but get over it as it’s always easier to live with the ghost of ‘a wonderful innocent boy that was taken before his time’ than ‘an ungrateful, elephantine little twerp that won’t move out of the manger and still expects me to pay his cell phone bill’. See: The Bible, Kashrut, untalented sons and daughters of legitimately good artists that try and make a go in the industry.
If I was princess I’d organize all of the NGOs working in Haiti. Really, it’s a fucking problem over there and no one’s really doing shit about it. Tons of groups working with overlapping mandates, demands and desires doing their best but without any kind of infrastructure, oversight or communication between them. It’s a mess and we really have to do something about it.
If I was a princess I’d be sure to marry someone from another country that maybe we were at war with or maybe were just having issues with so we could, you know, smooth things over and assure good communication and prosperity and non-aggression and such. Lets bring back the old school diplomacy; I’m fourteen and hot and you’re fifteen and hooked up and we get together because my dad and your dad want to make sure our countries don’t fuck with each other so much but fuck with the British even though seven years from now we’ll wish we hadn’t gotten involved at all and in the mean time I get to sleep with a ton of other dudes and love to party and spend all the money that should go to keeping the country together on like cakes and Converse and stuff. Yeah, that was some serious statesmanship. See: Marie Antoinette (the movie), Marie Antoinette (the Wikipedia article), Ben Affleck and J-Lo and the disastrous nuptials surrounding the movie Gigli.
If I was princess I’d have a four poster bed with gauzy drapes. It’s like a room within a room! It’s like a pillow fort, but for girls! Good for keeping mosquitoes out! Hides unsightly blemishes when you’re lying in the bed all naked and seductive and someone’s standing outside the bed considering your nakedness and there are candles and swooshy music and you’re maybe a little concerned about your cellulite even though you’re fourteen and he’s only fifteen but you really really have to make a baby like TONIGHT or else both of your counties are going to, I dunno, explode and starve and tumble in to revolution. See: Madonna and Willem Dafoe having gross candle sex in Body of Evidence.
If I was a princess I’d give my life so that unicorns could exist. It’s the penultimate sacrifice for a real blue blooded princess to make. Because really, what is a princess but a unicorn in human form? She represents all the possibility, all the dreams, all the magic of a one horned horse but she happens to be shaped like a girl. Everyone knows that the only way to bring unicorns back to this earth is for a real live princess to throw herself in to an active volcano singing Iron Maiden’s Run To The Hills. The Iron Maiden song ensures the unicorns aren’t the pink pussyfooted ones that prance about on rainbows but are the streamlined killing machine kind who’s lust for blood and power is rivaled only by it’s obsession for sparkles and hugs. See: Narwhals, Meg Ryan in Joe Vs The Volcano, Madonna having gross candle sex in Body of Evidence.
