Not Princess, Just Cinderella.

Sometimes, I feel like Cinderella. In the least presumptuous way possible. Not the princess... well, the other way around. The girl that wears the pretty dress and gets to lose herself at the ball for a few hours. But deep down she's out of place. Her hands are callused from work. Her feet have blisters. She hasn't slept for but a few hours. The "real" girl behind the princess dress. 

It goes like this: on weekends, my "normal" self is transformed into this satin-wearing, slippered princess with carefully done hair and makeup. Sometimes I have fairy wings. Sometimes I have a crown. I go to birthday parties or events for 1, 2 or 3 hours. Those parties are the only thing I allow myself to think of while they're happening. I transform myself into someone I am not.

Little girls and boys both look at me in awe. Parents and men and women double take as I walk by. "A princess! A princess!" little kids whisper to their parents, thinking I don't hear. "She's really real!" 

I feel like royalty - for a day or two a week, I am royalty! My bags are carried for me, children present me with gifts, random strangers want pictures with me and little girl's eyes fill with happiness. For two days out of the week, I am the belle of the ball, the star of countless birthday parties and events.

And then... I go home. Weary, so weary, I pull my dresses off, and wash or hang them in the closet for another week. I take my heels or slippers off my blistered feet. I wash the makeup off and there is my normal skin, blemishes here and there, acne on my chin or on my forehead. I have bags to unpack. I want dinner. I remove my wig or take down my hair, and it is stuck in all kinds of sideways, messy arrays. My back aches from sitting. My eyes are heavy. Face paint is stuck to my hands or elbows. I haven't eaten a full meal in hours, drove over 6 hours that day, or have been up since 6:00 AM. On any given Saturday, I have done anywhere from 1 to 4 parties, changed countless times, into different princess dresses, wigs or even as a clown and back to a princess. Princess dresses are strewn across the backseat of the car, I haphazardly check my sugar between shows (if I have time) and I always paste a smile on my face and give every single party all the joy and energy that I can put into it. Sometimes, I get low before a party ends. I won't show it, but instead I'll keep on making balloons and painting faces, smiling amidst the shaking, trying to keep my face paint lines steady. Sweat will drip down my back and my ears will buzz. When I finally have a free moment, I will politely, calmly ask for a coca cola or a cookie, hinting nothing at my plummeting sugars. 

As a princess, I don't go out of character at an event.

Sometimes, I'll entertain at fancy country clubs. I'll feel totally lower class! I get to eat roast lamb leftovers and drink cucumber water and delicate pastries (sparingly of course). Other times... I'll entertain in the not so nice parts of town. Outside or inside. Music blaring, kids running anywhere. But as a princess it doesn't matter, because at the end of the day my task is still the same - to make people happy.

I work the rest of the week in polos and work pants at the gym, or take errands to the bank. I wash my countertops, take my laundry to the laundromat. I go to Kroger. I pay bills.

I'm not glamorous. I live my fabulously flawed, human, joyful, elating, burdened, stressful and ordinary life.

That's the life of an entertainer - I have to sacrifice sometimes to put on a show. I am a mask, a curtain that covers the real Lacy Elizabeth Ball. For a few hours, I am me but not me. Everyone sees me different. I have entertained for thousands of people that will only ever know me as "Cinderella" or another princess. It isn't beautiful all the time, I struggle to pay for rent and food and school and work Easters and my birthday (sometimes) and I stay up late hours at night studying because I don't have time to over the weekend when I'm at work. I'll come home after working for 12 hours in one day and then go out downtown with friends. I push the limits of what I'm capable of and I pray my phone won't die so that I can find the way home from a party on the GPS and I won't drink anything all Saturday in case I don't have time to find a bathroom. I change while driving to gigs at stoplights. That's just the life I live, and it's as far away from "Cinderella" as you can get.

But then, I guess that's really the crux of her story, isn't it? And I'm okay with that. I, Lacy Elizabeth Ball, am about as far from a princess as you can get... but those brief hours where I get to put on a show and pretend, and the remaining hours in the day where I'm tired or struggle or worry or laugh, are the beautiful things about life that all together make life an amazing journey to live. And I suppose that Cinderella knew best of all that being a "princess" isn't just pretty dresses, after all. The smiles that I bring to children despite whatever extraneous thoughts or worries or emotions are going through my head - the joy of a hard days' work completed - laughing with friends or singing at the top of my lungs in the car and doing dishes at home -that's all the princess-ey stuff, the glamorous and the unglamorous. And boy, no matter how hard it is sometimes, do I love it all.