ONCE upon a time there was a prince who wanted to marry a princess; but she would have to be a real princess. He travelled all over the world to find one, but nowhere could he get what he wanted. There were princesses enough, but it was difficult to find out whether they were real ones. There was always something about them that was not as it should be. They seemed capable of absorbing criticism as well as compliments without letting it tear up their self-image. So he came home again and was sad, for he would have liked very much to have a real princess.
One evening a terrible storm came on; there was thunder and lightning, and the rain poured down in torrents. Suddenly a knocking was heard at the city gate, and the old king went to open it.
It was a princess standing out there in front of the gate. But, good gracious! what a sight the rain and the wind had made her look. The water ran down from her hair and clothes; it ran down into the toes of her shoes and out again at the heels. And yet she said that she was a real princess.
“Well, we’ll soon find that out,” thought the old queen. But she said nothing, went into the bed-room, took all the bedding off the bedstead, and laid a piece of mild criticism on the bottom; then she took twenty compliments and laid them on the criticism, and then twenty genuine, loving friendships on top of the compliments and then also a perfectly good life full of interesting work and fulfilling interests and rewarding relationships on top of that.
On this the princess had to lie all night. In the morning she was asked how she had slept.
“Oh, very badly!” said she. “I have scarcely closed my eyes all night. Heaven only knows what was in the bed, but I was lying on something painful, so unbelievably destructive, so that I am black and blue all over my body. It’s horrible!”
Now they knew that she was a real princess because she had felt the piece of mild criticism right through the twenty compliments and the twenty genuine, loving friendships and the perfectly good life full of interesting work and fulfilling interests and rewarding relationships on top of that.
Nobody but a real princess could be as sensitive as that.
So the prince took her for his wife, for now he knew that he had a real princess; and the piece of criticism was put in the museum, where it may still be seen, if no one has stolen it, but she never forgot it.
She never forgot it.
There, that is a true story.
[Image via]
AUGH
TOO REAL, MALLORY
IT MEEEEEE
SAAAAAAAAME. IT MEEEEEEEE.
This sure puts a new spin on the “All girls are princesses ” speech from the 1995 A Little Princess movie.
I’d never heard of that movie until a co-worker lent it to me a couple weeks ago (I guess I’m about the same age as her daughter? I don’t know!).
I am gratified to find that watching the movie is paying such sudden and unexpected dividends.
Oh man, I was going to mildly criticize the fact that the image wasn’t working and ruin Mallory’s life forever, but now it’s working.
Don’t worry… for a little while, it didn’t, and that’s enough.
The only reason this is not me is that the princess actually admitted it, out loud.
Too real, preaemunire. Too. Real.
Damn. I didn’t know that was true until you said it.
Maybe YOU are the real princess!
This is… slightly too close for comfort right now, thanks a LOT.
What I’ve never understood about the story is this: One would think a real princess would be brought up not to complain about the sleeping quarters she had been afforded after showing up at someone’s castle without even texting ahead. But then, I’m not a real princess, so I could be wrong.
Perhaps all of the supposed fake princesses felt the pea/criticism under the mattresses, but were just too polite to mention it, is what I’m saying. Or, perhaps that was the test, to see who felt entitled enough to bring it up.
http://www.theonion.com/article/bleary-eyed-stupo…
The worst thing is that I always return to the same place to sleep at night.
Right?!?
‘Oh, good. That tiny piece of mild criticism, just where I left it. Back to worrying at it like my dog with a hot spot.’
So me. Inner voice last night actually said “STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT BECAUSE THEN YOU GO ONTO THINKING ABOUT THIS!!! AND THEN!!!! TEARS!!!!”
And of course I thought about it anyway and then of course I went into think about that and the next thing I knew it was 3 a.m. and I was ugly-sobbing into a pillow and blowing my nose in my shirt so I didn’t disturb the cat by reaching for kleenex.
I always knew I was a long-lost princess. This is just the proof I was waiting for.
*insert self-deprecating comment about not actually having feelings of entitlement, in case I get criticized for that, here*
One time (well, more than one time, but you know) my ex said something horrible to me while we were lying in bed. I don’t remember what he said, which is probably for the best, but I remember very clearly the feeling of lying in my own bed and having someone supposed to love me saying that to me.
So I guess I am a real princess? Or do I have to actually remember the horrible thing?
Don’t remember it! You’re clearly a Real Princess and have no need for the words of common riff raff.
Oh yes. Lying in bed with the man who had seemed to love me and he criticized something about our first phone conversation. And I got the feeling he intended to dismantle me and I thought to myself, if he does this one more time, I will go. Not long after, he criticized something about our first meeting up alone. So I left.
my version is the Prince and the Completely Insignificant False Accusation of Lying By Someone Whose Opinions Mean Nothing In His Life
The queen could also have hidden an embarrassing mistake under those mattresses, and this would be equally REAL.
Says the person who just this morning was caught not paying attention on a conference call, and can clearly envision involuntarily cringing as I describe this horrible day to my great-grandchildren.
I fell asleep on a conference call once, so
know that.
Solidarity.
Oh gosh, was that you ever-so-gently snoring?
Was on a call this morning. My boss chimes in just “la de da… oh yeah, I’m multitasking so can you repeat that?”
#maleprivilege (thanks for the spelling, Josh Hutcherson)
Yeah, was going to say: This is like the armrest on airline seats. Claim that privilege. If you actually needed to be paying attention to the meeting, it would be relevant enough that you would be.
I have to apologise for my cat every conference call I have. I work at home and she likes to stand on the windowsill behind my head and yell whenever I’m on the phone.
Her contribution is important!
Actually, I used to have a cat who would jump in my lap and imitate me laughing (I eventually realized) whenever I was on the phone. Now that was creepy/weird.
Meeeee toooooo! Only I don’t apologise very hard because she is a lovely cat and conference calls are rarely lovely.
Hello, are you me? People in my meetings are used to my Sunshine, and actually say hi when she meows at them.
Cats are so unprofessional.
i once hung up on a conference call at work
Once I was on an evening conference call and my kid started practicing her bass clarinet.
Too real, Mallory. Too real.
does this qualify me for true princess-ship enough to marry into the royal family? Just wondering.
real talk: this cuts way close to the bone.
And the princess secretly wondered when she would ever be able to sleep on a real bed, with mattresses and blankets and pillows instead of friendships and compliments and rewarding work—which were great, to be sure, but she really could have used even just one warm, fuzzy Snuggie after that mysterious long day in the rain.
Oh. Oh.
First time commenting!
This was TOO REAL and also reminded me of a recent Guardian quiz called ‘How sensitive are you to unpleasantness?’ (http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2016/jan/24/how-sensitive-are-you-to-unpleasantness).
The average score is apparently 18 (out of a possible 28) for men and 21 for women; I’m somewhere between 25 and 28 because I have no chill, not even a little bit. People in the comments are saying ‘well I only scored 13!’ and I’m like ‘???’ because I can’t imagine going through life without being perturbed by everything.
Welp, I just took that and scored 26. *high five*
Ditto. *low five of no chill*
Oh no! I got 28. And because I, too, have no chill it’s going to really bother me for a long time. My kingdom for a horse (or human) to teach me how to not be a princess anymore!
28. Perfect score on “overly anxious and perfectionist.”
The link didn’t work for me at first (I think the hyperlink included the parentheses as part of the URL?) and that stressed me out as I thought “what if I never find out how anxious and/or perfectionistic I am???”
…got a 27.
Usually on those sliding scale questionnaires, I have at least ONE question where I waffle between whether “true” or “very true” is the most accurate answer. Nope. Solid 28, shortest time I’ve ever spent on a quiz.
Yes! Exactly the same here. I think the only way to summarize my feelings right now is : /
At least the chocolate chip cookies were good.
Ditto, both on the 28 and the usual waffling. And I think the time I usually take waffling is itself a signal of being perfectionist about things that, if I had the kind of perspective I wanted to have, probably wouldn’t be very important to me. SIGH.
I choose to ignore my high score and thank you for the article that must have existed only to teach me about left-handed marmosets.
So I am a left handed marmoset then. (27 go me)
I’m 26. The only reason why I didn’t score higher is because I have a friend who has regular panic attacks.
I got 21. I am heavily medicated against this kind of thinking, which might be why I scored “normal”. How much chill could I generate if I upped my dose, I wonder…?
Ow, my secret heart.
Mine too. Mine too. I still remember mild criticisms from YEARS ago. Childhood even.
Hello friend, we are in the same struggle.
It’s not the mild criticisms, it’s the stupid things I’ve done (and sometimes been mocked for) that keep me awake at night.
You know who was a real princess? My ex-husband.
My sequence of reactions:
omg, first of all, I love the Dulac illustrations and this is maybe my favorite.
second, I thought, this is a story Mallory can’t make MORE horrific for me, since I read the one in one of those Datlow/Windling anthologies probing at what kind of prince (or queen mother-in-law) is so fixated and turned-on by skin that a pea can bruise through 20 mattresses? Things ended badly.
thirdly, uh-oh. And ouch.
I remember watching an animated TV series when I was young, I can’t remember what it was called, but each episode was a 5-minute retelling of a well-known fairy tale, but with certain creative adaptations. For example, Snow White was retold as the story of an aging TV/stage star who tries to save her career by having her younger, prettier screen/stage rival killed, The Tin Soldier was retold as the story of a real soldier in the trenches during WWI who falls in love with a real dancer, and so on.
I particularly enjoyed their retelling of The Princess and the Pea, because they didn’t change much but produced a much more satisfying story. In this version, the Prince is getting close to 40 years old but is still a bachelor because of the impossibly precise expectations he has for the “real princess” he wants to marry.
One stormy night, an attractive woman knocks at their door and they invite her in to stay the night. During the evening she spends hours with the Prince, chatting, laughing, dancing, and it’s clear that they both enjoy each others’ company very much. When bedtime comes, at her son’s anxious request, the Queen sets up the usual mattress stack with the pea underneath. Then she takes the woman aside to lend her a bottle of black/blue mascara and give her some words of advice.
The next morning, the woman announces that she had a terribly uncomfortable night, and her skin was bruised black and blue by something hard in the bedding. She lifts her blouse and shows them some painted-on (not that they realise it) bruise marks.
The Prince is overjoyed that the woman he likes so much is a real Princess and proposes to her on the spot, and she accepts him. The woman and the Queen smile at one another.
Truth
Oh Christ, the princess has OCD.
Related, related:
apparently there was a remake of Once Upon a Mattress with Matthew Morrison and Zooey Deschannel and some other people and some kind loving soul uploaded the whole movie (in installments) to Youtube.
OH MY GOD MISS HANNIGAN IS QUEEN AGGRAVAIN?! *faints*
My friend once overheard a man I used to sleep with say something horrible about me.
She could have placed that piece of criticism under my mattress to determine if I was a developed enough human being to deal with it constructively, but to this day she has never, ever told me what he said, because I have fond memories of that lover and she does not wish to destroy them. I haven’t asked her. I don’t want to know, because I am not the sort of person who can un-hear things like that.
We do not know if I am a princess but I am pretty sure she is a queen.
Wait, but why did she tell you he said something horrible at all???
This is my question too! Seems like a really good friend wouldn’t mention it happened at all. Maybe you can slip that criticism into her bed sometime.
She was warning me off of getting involved with him again!
My lawyer BFF tried a case for me, and opposing counsel took my absence as an opportunity to air his dim views of me. She sweetly tried to not tell me what he said. I called the client and understood why. It was *mean* (and completely unfair and untrue) and I was *furious.* But I don’t blame her for deciding she was not going to be the one to spike my blood pressure.
that’s fine. just gonna curl up right here and cry now
I call shenanigans. What kind of REAL princess goes out the rain?
Unless the real ending to this story is, “And nobody ever knew whether she felt the criticism or not, because they were all devoured in their beds by the monster she ran through the rain to escape.”
TRUE-ASS STORY RIGHT HERE
I'd never heard of that movie until a co-worker lent it to me a couple weeks ago (I guess I'm about the same age as her daughter? I don't know!).
I am gratified to find that watching the movie is paying such sudden and unexpected dividends.
Just before I read this story I met a dude who spent an inordinate amount of ordinary conversation time trying to get a rise out of the women in the group, including, out of the blue, asking someone if she ‘was working on her Mrs. degree’. When she appeared nonplussed and clearly uncomfortable, he then said “Oh, are you offended?” Apparently multiple male and female friends have told him that this is rude and counterproductive, but now I can only assume this dude is trolling for a princess, and will not be interrupted on his quest.
Forwarded to my therapist.
(Great. Now whenever I type “my” my phone suggests “Mycroft”.)
Forwarded to my therapist.
(Great. Now whenever I type "my" my phone suggests "Mycroft".)
Man now I feel bad about that time I complained when you enabled that 13yo youtuber to troll us
Ditto. *low five of no chill*