There it was, sitting at our table, beckoning...
... a plastic gold tiara, glistening beneath the dimmed fluorescent lights of another cheaply decorated ballroom of black balloons, silver stars, tacky tablecloths and cheap champagne served in plastic flute glasses.
It was New Year's Eve in the 'Peg.
And I was busy absolving myself of any lingering guilt associated with dragging my friends to this single senior's ball with promises of midnight kisses with smoldering hot, single guys.
In all honesty, the coordinator of these festivities did not lie to me about the age range: "about 25 to 75", he said.
What he failed to mention was that 90% of them were retired.
But none of that mattered now. My friends were drinking and having fun dancing with every geriatric well enough to ask them, while I sat and contemplated the theme of my coming year.
Every new year simply must have a theme.
And it has to be worded in such a way that you remember it.
Not a list of resolutions made to be broken within a month, but rather one, catchy phrase preceded by the starter statement:
This is the year that I... (fill in the blank).
Some examples might be:
"Get fit"
"Heal old wounds"
"Get laid"
or in my case...
"Become a Princess!"
However, given that manifesting principles dictate that all statements must be placed in the here and now to be effective, (as there is nothing other than the present moment), the catch phrase:
I Am a Princess
... was born.
Earlier that evening, my Columbian friend L, had chosen a different theme. This year, she was going to "surrender to da Universe".
"I have faith dat Got knows best", she said with the solemn determination of a newly ordained priest.
(When I looked at her I thought I detected a faint halo, but it was probably hair product). "Say what?" I said, distracted by the glow around her head.
"Yes", she responded with dignity, tempered with a sexy Spanish accent a la Salma Hayek and a fiery beauty to match;
"Dis year, I ham going to surrender to da universe and embrace de unfolding of life."
She looked at me and smiled serenely, at peace with herself and all that is, was, and ever will be. All this, coming from a woman forced to escape her country of birth after a life-threatening stint as a prosecuting attorney sent her packing.
I admired her without reservation. But I couldn't compete with her resoution.
"What about you?" she asked.
I hesitated, knowing I was about as far removed from a similar answer as a Pygmy tribe in Africa was to having Inuit relatives in the Arctic tundra.
But she knew me. And she never, ever judged. So I was safe.
"This year I'm gonna spoil myself to the point of no return." I said with my arms crossed daring some invisible audience - the Gods maybe - to convince me otherwise.
Just let 'em try, I thought, L wasn't the only one who attended law school.
"Good for you!" she said, without missing a beat, "you deserve it!"
Ya gotta love the sisterhood.
So there we were a few hours later, in a ballroom setting capable of putting all redneck family reunion decorations to shame, and I was faced with the TIARA. It was my moment of truth.
I pulled my hair back and put it on.
It had a strange power over me, this tiara. As the plastic teeth gripped the sides of my carefully coiffed hair, I suddenly felt my back straighten just a little and my chin tilt up just a tad - enough to give me an air of royal dignity and scare anyone away unworthy of my attentions.
Either that or it was my attitude.
But no matter! I had embraced my inner princess and God help anyone who tried to take the title away from me! I was no longer the runner-up in this game called life! I was a winner!
-----
As the weeks passed and I returned to my life substitute teaching, evidence of this theme cropped up randomly as reminders of my aspirations this year.
One day I subbed in a kindergarten class and the teacher had left specific instructions to make TIARAS with the children who were having a TEA PARTY on Friday in celebration of the letter "T".
How perfect.
I donned the sample Tiara, told the children they could either call me Ms. A or Queen A but that "I preferred the latter".
I wore it all morning and was forced to repeat the exercise with the afternoon class.
By the time we were done, I had my own Tiara with more gold and silver sprinkles than there were stars in the desert night sky.
Another day, I subbed at a school that was having a 'hat day'. The secretary wore a fabulous tiara.
When I said to her, "I want your tiara", she replied, "You can't have it. Only special people get to wear them."
Indeed they do, I thought, and smiled coyly knowing I was destined for such an honor.
By now, the tiara syndrome had embedded its way into my brain and I no longer needed the crutch of a fake one to get me through the day.
I had learned about the tiara syndrome from another grade one class. When they had 'choice time' at the end of the day, a group of girls chose to draw.
They all drew princesses.
When I asked them, "Who is that?" they all replied, "That's ME!"
But of course! This was an A-HA moment if there ever was one.
I began to notice a pattern...
In every elementary class I taught, whenever the girls were given free time to draw, one group always chose to draw princesses. The rest did some variation of butterflies, trees or small, furry animals (while the boys did trucks and guns I might add, but that's another story).
My conclusion?
EVERY girl has an inner princess.
Now, at the age of... comfortable... I was finally finding mine.
The only difference between me and them, was that I wasn't waiting for my Prince Charming anymore. If he shows up, SUPER. And if he doesn't, that's cool too. No one's carriage is turning into a pumpkin in this story anytime soon.
With my vow to be a princess, I made myself responsible for every act that came my way. EVERY ACTION and every REACTION.
Don't kid yourself. None of these self-contracts come without a little work.
I had to work on myself. I had to feel worthy.
Every, single, day.
That was the catch. Not always easy when you've spent a lifetime thinking you have to work harder than everyone else to be loved and adored; that nothing comes for free. And then you have the kind of relationships that prove this false theory over and over again.
Not good.
But this year, I am going to treat myself the way I had always imagined it would feel like to be doted upon and adored.
As this is something I had failed to experience in my love life, I thought it was high time I set the bar myself and see what it felt like...
...in all aspects of my life.
From now on, I would buy the good cheese (even if it wasn't on sale), quality dark chocolate to keep in my freezer and nibble on when times were tough, fresh flowers for my living room, the perfect jeans (even if they cost me a day's work), and maybe even that trip to California I had been wanting to do for years.
As it turns out, that was the first thing I booked.
After all, if I don't think I'm a princess, then I will justifiably spend my sit-com life as the runner-up in my own story.
And it'll be a cold day in L.A. before I play that rerun again.
So here goes nothing :)
