Day 1

Hi, everyone. Here I am, in case you thought I’d forgotten. My extreme lateness with my first post for Women’s History Month is due to a change in the website that hosts me, a change I was not made aware of in time. But I am back, and I intend to remain until I can’t anymore. I will catch up over the next couple of days, so stay with me!

My first piece this year is a monologue. In case you’re not certain, a monologue is a one-person version of a dialogue. Instead of two people talking (dia-), there is only one (mono-). It should assume a similar structure to a play, with a story arc, but that isn’t absolutely necessary.

Today I offer up a new twist on an old story, a story we all know, but only from one point of view. I give you an alternate version. It could have happened this way.

NOBODY LOVES AN OLD WOMAN

 Hi. The woman in the outer office sent me to you. I wanted to talk to Mr. Disney, but she said he’s dead. How can he be dead, when he’s still making movies? Anyway, she said you were the one to speak to…I have a complaint.

Yes, it’s one of the movies. I guess it’s an older one, but I just saw it. That probably seems strange, since it was about me…sort of. Mr. Disney asked if he could use my story, and my stepmother said he could. He paid us, which we really needed then. I had no idea! The story, the way he told it! Wow. I didn’t see much true in it at all! I thought he was going to tell OUR story, but he made most of it up.

Okay, I do have a stepmother and two stepsisters, Anastasia and Drizella. But they weren’t mean to me, not at all. We were a family. Well, okay, Drizella was somewhat mean, but she was mean to Anastasia, too. It’s just her way. She’s not a very nice person. So, anyway, what I want to complain about is that he made them awful! I guess he thought it was a better story that way, but it wasn’t fair. My stepmother was good to me.

See, my mother died when I was young, so my father remarried. She was very pretty, and still young. She already had two daughters, and they became my playmates. We lived a nice, comfortable life. It wasn’t until my father died that we discovered he had lost most of his money. He had some bad habits, mostly gambling and drinking, and he lost most of the time when he gambled. We were broke.

We went from being comfortable to living in rags and eating scraps. Momma was able to keep the house, so we had a roof, but she wasn’t able to maintain it. The roof was about to fall in. She took in washing. Of course, I worked with her. And my stepsisters. There was no money to hire anyone else, and we all helped out. She didn’t want to do it, but it was our only hope. When that wasn’t enough, she took in sewing. I wasn’t very good at sewing, so Drizella helped mostly with that. Anastasia and I took over the washing. We managed to make enough to buy food.

One day the mayor announced the prince was coming to town. He was looking for a wife. Of course, that would solve everything, right? He could marry one of us…we all sort of assumed Anastasia. She was very pretty. So Momma sewed us new dresses and we all dressed our best.

Ball? There was no ball. That’s just silly. No, the prince went from house to house asking if there were any young single women. He looked them over, asked some questions, and would pick someone to marry. When he got to our house, of course Momma said yes when he asked if there were young single women. He came in, we all stood in a line so he could look us over. His eyes lit up when he saw Anastasia, and he nodded his head. Just like we all thought.

He mostly ignored Drizella. She was pretty, but no one thought so, especially when she stood next to Anastasia. So he asked her a couple of questions, and moved to me. He put his hand on my shoulder, told me to turn around, just like he did with Anastasia. He asked me how old I was, and where was my father. He seemed pleased when I said my father was dead; I found out later he preferred to deal with mothers. He thought they were easier to short change.

Momma and the prince disappeared; he wanted a private conference. The courtiers all looked wise; he hadn’t had a conference at any of the other houses. They looked at Anastasia, then at me, then back. They thought Anastasia, too. When Momma came out with the prince, we were shocked when he came to me and said “I will marry you”.

I didn’t really want to marry. I had a lot of things I wanted to do. And the prince wasn’t a Prince Charming; he was unattractive and smelled bad. But when the future king says to marry him, you marry him. It isn’t a choice. And I knew it would help Momma. He promised her an allowance. She didn’t look happy; she didn’t like him either. But she let him put me in his carriage. Our wedding was a huge ceremony, with all the best people.

Momma and my sisters moved into the palace. The prince absolutely would not hear of maintaining two houses, so he found rooms for them in the basement. He sold our house for a lot of money; I don’t think he gave Momma any of it, because he said it came to me when I got married. Momma didn’t get anything…not that there was much to get. Mostly bills. The prince paid those, too. It was part of my bride price.

You see, it wasn’t some sort of dream. We were poor because we had to rely on Poppa. And when he died…that was the end. Momma was too old to attract another man, though she was still a good looking woman. She couldn’t have more babies, so no man wanted her. There was nothing for her but to do what she did…figure out how to survive. In the end, selling me to the prince was the only thing that saved her. I found out a couple of months later that she was sick. The harsh winter we came through nearly destroyed her. She lived a couple of years, but was never well again. She apologized over and over to me, but I told her not to worry. It’s what she had to do.

Anastasia didn’t stay with us; she ran off with the clockmaker’s son. He wasn’t much of a catch, but he got her out of there. She was happy. Drizella stayed with us for several years, but started drinking. She was never happy, and when she disappeared, no one was surprised. I never found out where she went…some people insist she must be dead, but I think she was just sick of poverty and found someone who would take care of her. I don’t blame her.

As for happily ever after? You have to be kidding. The prince was an irresponsible, not too bright prince; when he became king, he stayed that way. He nearly drove the kingdom into bankruptcy because he loved luxury, so I had to take over the books and put him on a budget. That just made him mad. He didn’t like being told no. He would have thrown me out if it wasn’t for the fact that his subjects loved me, and weren’t so fond of him. He was afraid they would riot if he got rid of me. So he settled for being mean.

So, my complaint? Why did you make my stepmother so mean? She was nothing but good to me…and her daughters were good sisters, too…well, maybe not Drizella all the time, but mostly. Momma only sold Mr. Disney the story because she thought he’d tell the truth and the world would know how miserable life was for widows and orphans, especially women. So I went out and watched some of his other movies, you know? And they’re ALL that way? Stepmothers are always, always evil. I know Snow White; her stepmother was sort of weird, but not mean, and not always looking in the mirror. She was too busy. She did have to keep herself pretty, because otherwise her husband would dump her, but she had hopes for Snow White…hopes that went further than living in a house in the forest with dwarfs…which wasn’t true, anyway.

Why does he do it? Why does he always make older women ugly and mean and frightening? And what’s all the magic about? If I had a fairy godmother, if such things existed, she wouldn’t have set me up to marry the prince. She’d have helped me on the road to a better career. “Girl”, she would have said. “Girl, there’s going to be a day when women can do any job they want…that day is coming, mark my words! So you might as well be the pioneer who gets it started.” Then she’d have helped me do it. But there aren’t fairy godmothers, so I ended up like the other women…married, knowing some day I’ll lose my looks and probably find myself thrown out, or maybe I’ll become a widow and my son will stuff me in the basement like my husband did with his mother, not wanting to see an old woman. Nobody loves an old woman, that’s what the king said when his mother tried to protest. Nobody loves an old woman.

What do you mean, Mr. Disney was true to the story? I just told you the real story. I guess he hates old women, too!...What? Who’s Charles Perrault?...He sounds French. Oh! I bet he’s that guy who came around to see the prince about three weeks after we married! He spoke French, and I know French, but he went to the study with the king and the prince, so I don’t know what he said. His name was Charles…Perrault sounds familiar.

But…I still think Mr. Disney hates old women. If he didn’t, why wouldn’t he say no to a story like that? All his movies…all the stepmothers, or the old women…did you see Ursula in the Little Mermaid? Wow…just wow. He really must hate old women. Maybe the king was right…nobody loves old women.