You grow up believing the princess is everything ... all pink and tulley, ribbons and bows, and flowers and pretty, the handsome prince and happily ever after ...
You are "Daddy's Princess," and you have princess themed bedding and wallpaper. Every birthday is a princess party and you play princess with ever doll and cow you are allowed to dress.
And you buy into it all through elementary, My Little Pony, Strawberry Shortcake, baby kitties, love and romance ... until you hit Jr. High and suddenly you become aware that the boys are not looking at pictures of Cinderella with their flashlights under their beds late at night ... and that "Bambi" was not really a deer but a "bunny" and lived a whole other life than the Disney Movie portrayed, and "Thumper" was probably her pimp. You learn that your grandmother lied and big girls do run around without their shirts on ... and without their pants ... evidently ... and most disheartening ...that nothing matters more than breasts ... which you don't have yet because you are just getting started on your own private road to "Loserdom."
So you want to announce to everyone that you have a sexy edge, which is really tough to do when you are flat chested and your grandmother keeps buying your pink dresses with bunnies on them and you have no idea where eye shadow is supposed to go and how to take that clown edge off of the rouge you wear. You try to dress the part but it is hard to carry off leather when you still have to look up all the bad words in the dictionary or ask your brother because you are not sure of what they mean ... exactly ...
And just when you figure out how to stuff your bra, someone else lets you know that boys don't really like THOSE kind of girls and then someone flashes Vogue wedding dresses in front of your face and Donny Osmond shows up.
So you try to look like a slut who has values, can cook, and is worth it.
And in the end, after you get married and find out there was no Prince Charming either, and the whole growing up was a freaking joke, . . . you look back at that time and desperately try to hide all the pictures of you with one foot in church and the other on the street corner. That's when you realize that the only person who never lied to you is a Hugh Hefner.
Nothing matters more than breasts.
SKIN: [[Hush] Jilly Skin - CandyApple
HAIR: Boudoir Waves Hair
EYES: IKON 'Sunrise' Eyes - Light Steel Blue
LINGERIE: Faster Pussycat FP Bettie Bad Pinup Set - black