Advice from a small town girl

Personally, I blame it all on Walt Disney.

Seriously.

Before Walt came along, fairy tales tended to be not just cautionary, but downright terrifying.

I’m pretty sure that prior to being introduced to the happy-ever-after brand of storytelling perfected by those at the Disney company, I was too scared to do anything wrong. After all, being baked in someone’s oven or eaten by a wolf didn’t sound particularly pleasant.

Then here came Snow White, Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella, where the girls (and I use that term advisedly) tended to be innocent victims of nasty adult women.

Oh, and I must not forget that they were perfect. Always smiling, always sweet and never ever unkind, especially when dealing with wildlife or extremely short men.

They are, of course, frozen in time. The beauties will always be young and lovely, the wicked stepmothers and ugly stepsisters will always be unattractive in myriad ways.

And the princes will always be charming.

Well, all I have to say (to borrow a phrase from a much better writer than I) is, “Bah, humbug!”

I’ve lived in a fantasy world of sorts for so many years, I’m not sure I can make it back to reality now. I’m not so sure I want to, but I’m pretty sure I need to. Get back to reality, that is.

Living in a sort of a continual daydream makes it difficult to maintain contact with those things that keep us healthy.

Like our bodies.

I came to believe, a long time ago, that I could never achieve a Disneyesque perfection in a physical sense. It was only available in my imagination, so I spent increasing amounts of time there. Being perfect.

I can’t believe I’m the only female in the world who still (subconsciously, of course) tries to live up to the impossible standards of those Disney creations.

I still believe I’m supposed to have dainty feet and trim ankles, not to mention perky . . . oops, getting carried away. Never mind.

I’m supposed to be unfailingly nice to everyone, from my family to the person (we all know at least one) who never shuts up.

Somewhere along the line, I got mixed up.

Instead of modeling myself after Snow White or Cinderella, I’ve had a tendency to be more along the lines of one of the seven dwarves.

A different one each day, it seems. I am, by turns, Sneezy, Sleepy, Grumpy and Dopey. I’d rather be Doc.

I was Bashful once as a child.

Mostly, I’m Happy.

Could be worse, I suppose. I could be one of those nasty adult women.

Lise Ott is an Odessa business owner who contributes a weekly column to The Odessa Record.