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Friday, May 20, 2005
Via Bluewyvern, an article on the propensity of girls who like fairy tales to get caught up in domestic violence:
Young girls who enjoy classic romantic fairy tales like "Cinderella" and "Beauty and the Beast" are at greater risk of becoming victims of violent relationships in later life, a British researcher says.
Luckily, I never bought the whole fairy tale thing. I always identified with the ogres, witches and beasts. Come on, the witch in Hansel and Gretel had a house made of candy - you'd have to be a pretty stupid kid not to think she rocks! And the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood, he cross-dressed. For one little girl with budding kink fantasies that said a lot. Then there was a Swedish fairy tale where a blonde princess gets switched at birth with an ogre girl with a feisty personality and a head full of dark curls.
However, I am a little worried about my own forays into the world of fairy tales.
A few weeks ago, lusting over the Richters seed catalogue, I came across rampion. Some of you know rampion from Rapunzel; Rapunzel's mother so craved rampion roots during her pregnancy her husband stole some from the neighbouring witch's garden to satisfy his wife.
I ordered rampion seed to grow my own and find out if it's truly worth giving up your unborn child for.
Am I headed for the black hole of submissive relationships? This article about girls who believe in fairy tales too much is a real wake-up call. Will I enjoy rampion so much that I will sacrifice everything just to have one. more. taste. of. rampion? Will my daughter jump into unhealthy relationships with men who claim their are princes just to escape the tragedy of home life?
It's not too late to put a stop to my rampion-growing. Just in case, I am going to break into a few bear cottages and spit in their porridges. Then I am going to the ball with live squirrel thigh-high boots instead of those stupid glass slippers. And I will stay after midnight, fairy godmother's advice be damned. To finish off, I will suggest to the prince (who won't know I made out with the chief of guards that night) that we spray paint obscenities on the dwarves' house. You know, just 'cause we'll be drunk and there's nothing better to do on a Saturday night when you're only fifteen.
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