My life begins with the phrase, Once upon a time.
There was a kind beautiful little girl.
She became an orphan.
She was a stepdaughter.
She became a maid.
She was called Cinderella.
She was a loathed daughter.
She was the granddaughter of a fairy.
She was given a pumpkin coach.
A rat coach driver.
Lizard footmen.
Mice turned horses.
She became the beautiful stranger in the balls.
She became the fortunate maid.
She was the bearer of the precious glass slipper.
She was the captivator of the Prince.
She was gone by the stroke of midnight.
She was a lady turned maid.
She was the lady whose foot fit the slipper.
She was the lady the Prince took to his castle.
She was the woman the Prince wed.
She was the new princess.
And then my life ends with another phrase: And they lived happily ever after.
But it is not the end. No one knew who the princess was…yes, they know her, Princess Eleanor. But not Ella, the girl. No one knew what happened afterwards.
Who is she? Was she the orphan, the stepdaughter, the maid, Cinderella, the stranger, the princess, the lady, the granddaughter, or the Prince's love? She was kind, she was beautiful, but is that all there is to it?
So many people have different views of me, Ella. Who is Ella really? They don't know. And sometimes, I think I don't too.
Being princess changed my life drastically, in ways I never thought would happen. All of a sudden, I was waited hand and foot.
A maid would rush just to open a window, something I myself could do.
A footman would open the carriage door in a flash, when before, I was not even allowed to step inside a carriage.
A seamstress would sew me gowns of utter splendor and extravagance, when before I owned none of those yet I made them for my sisters.
A cook would make me delicacies from foreign lands, when before I made food but never got to eat it.
I am happy with her cooking, with their attention but it was not the life I knew.
And as far as I know, I wasn't me. I know myself as the self-reliant, strong-willed young woman, while others saw me as the mild, passive, obedient, princess who should be pampered. She is not Ella, and I have a hard time convincing people.
People look at me ridiculously when I demand to do things by myself. No, no, a princess must not lift a finger.
Don't they know that I am not a complete invalid? I know how to sew and clean and stand up and walk by myself. But I am rendered a princess, and a princess must not do these things.
I was Ella still. I am still slightly stubborn, independent, and strong-willed. Nothing will change that, not a foot with a glass slipper or a marriage with the Prince.
I am Ella, Ella the once normal girl, now a princess. Someone must see that.
My life did not end with a phrase, like it is written in a story. I will not allow it, certainly.
My future cannot be summarized with a phrase.
And the lived happily ever after.
I did not live happily ever after. I lived the way a person would live, with mistakes, decisions, hardships, challenges, achievements, emotions, and joy.
Cinderella is but a name. It is Ella—me—who should be remembered.