Snow White – Must I Learn to Love him?

My story is one which has been oft-quoted, but never in quite the right way. It seems to be a story which people tell their children, but no-one ever seems to notice just how dastardly gruesome it actually was. I was pronounced dead, not once, but three times! That apple was only the half of it. I had poisoned combs stuck into my scalp, and was strangled with a ribbon for a dress. Even the apple is never told right – I wouldn't have eaten it if it hadn't been for her taking a bite out of the non-poisoned side first! And she didn't look a bit like my stepmother. Don't even get me started on her wanting to eat my heart. Eww, anyone?

I'm always portrayed as the weak one, the flimsy mimsy one who did all the housework for these lovable dwarves. Ha! Housework for that lot takes some hard graft let me tell you! And lovable? Well, in some sort of way I guess they were lovable. Underneath all that brashness, anyway. And they did care about me, but boy did they get in a mood with me when they found out I'd answered the door to my stepmother. As if it was so blindingly obvious, as if she hadn't disguised herself with magic all three times. Their occupation was simply laughable, too. Going out to the mines, finding all these precious gems, and just hoarding them in a different cottage somewhere. Not going to sell them. No, no, which is why we lived in such a dump.

But the thing that gets me most about when people tell me story is the way they portray my dear husband, Prince Charming. I mean, it's not like riding past a house and seeing a dead woman and then asking to kiss her is at all weird and creepy, is it? I don't know why the dwarves let him. I mean, of course I'm grateful that he dislodged the poisoned apple from my throat, but he thinks that gives him claim to pick me up and ride off with me, without so much as a by-your-leave. He spends the whole journey back to his castle telling me about his life (*yawn*, boring!) and how much I'm going to enjoy being his wife. Excuse me? Who said anything about marriage?

So here I am now, married to this berk, Prince Charming. He doesn't let me do anything exciting, the height of fun for me is embroidery. He's away a lot as well, never spends more than two or three nights a week with me. Which is a blessing, and a curse. His servants are all such little sneaks, telling him everything I've been up to. If he finds out it's anything active at all, he reprimands me harshly, telling me that is NOT what princesses do. Has he never heard of the Karate Princess?

I've got a sneaking suspicion there are other women in his life as well, I've heard him mentioning some girl called Cinderella, and some person called Beauty or something stupid like that. Last week he said he had an important meeting with a girl called Rapunzel about hair products. Well he should know enough about them, he's so vain about his hair and every aspect of his appearance. He owns ten beauty products to my one. I'm just scared he might be leading some kind of quadruple life. I think I should leave him, but my father says he may grow on me.

Now I'm sitting here just wondering – must I learn to love him?