The No Good, Very Bad, Absolutely Horrible, Most Terrible Day of My Life!
~The Story of a Reluctant & Sarcastic Cinderella
Chapter One: My Life
So, normally, I like my life. I have a loving father, cankerous stepmother and three annoying stepsisters. My dear stepmother is quite determined to turn me into a 'Lady,' but my father allows me to do as I wish. And I most adamantly do NOT wish to become a 'Lady.' So I pretty much get the run of the mansion and at times, can go for hours without a glimpse of my adoring step family.
As often as I can (which is almost every day) I like to go on my own private adventures. Often times, just getting away from dear step mama is one. But normally my adventures involve ride my horse, Midnight's Call, and exploring the estate, forest and village.
Speaking of the village! Ha! I frequently join our dear Cook, Mrs. Benson on her forays into the village for buy food. I like to make a game of it and Mrs. Benson is such a dear and indulges me in my fancy, by going along with it. When I go with her to the village, she often introduces me as a maid or her niece from so-and-so place from the other side of the country. It makes me laugh, because none of the people seem to realize that it is the same person each week. At times, I do go as myself, the daughter of the Lord on the hill, but when I go, I insist they call me 'Miss,' and not 'Lady' for to call me 'Lady' is a lie, because I am no Lady.
I also love to visit the village incognito because I love the peasant style of dress, much simpler, like me. I do not like to be weighed down by those huge billowing pieces of cloth that they call skirts, and I like to breathe, thus I am not an admirer of the cruel contraption called the corset.
When I am forced to stay home for the day, which I loathe, I must sit up straight, sip slowly and quietly, read poetry or embroider all day long. Such Torture! Sadly, I am not one for sitting still long, consequently I start to twitch or incessantly tap my feet. After a time, my twitching and tapping starts to bother my stepmother's delicate nerves. If I continue such behavior after admonishment from her, I am sent out of the room, away from the presence in disgrace, with a punishment of working in the garden for the rest of the day.
And even though she has been my stepmother for the past nine years, it still hasn't gotten through her head yet that working the in garden is no punishment for me, I enjoy it. I get to wear comfortable clothing, go outside (away from her and her darlings), get dirty and turn something ugly into beautiful. Though I must say that weeding does get quite tedious after a time, but I would much rather weed the garden all day than sit in her exalted presence for one hour.
I actually don't hate my stepmother. I am annoyed by her, more or less. She doesn't understand my sarcasm and takes everything way too literally. I don't know how she gets by with my father, I learned sarcasm from him. Though, I will admit, she does make me laugh quite a bit. If I am in her presence for too long, I often burst into laughter, which must be hidden behind tears. At which point my stepsisters gather around me, to offer comfort, which only forces me to cry more in effort to cover the laughter, because their attempts at comfort are truly pathetic. They coo and caw, pat my head and hands, and dance around me. I suppose they mean well, but most of the time their behavior reminds me of chickens. They talk nonsense, all the time. I think they talk so much because they like to hear the sound of their own voice resounding and echoing throughout the whole mansion.
I have no clue as to why my father married the annoying bird, but he seems to like her well enough, his sarcasm certainly keeps him entertained, though he does wince and grimace when she starts fluttering around the room over an invitation to so-and-so's ball or gala.
A few weeks ago, my father left home for the capital on business with the King. Let me tell you, it has been absolutely miserable here without him. Even though I now partially blame him for the horrors that have befallen me the past few days.
About a week ago my stepmother received a letter from father, asking us all to join him in the capital for a ball in honor of the Prince's Twenty-First Birthday. My father is coward for sending the invitation by courier and not coming home himself. He could have at least given me a warning or heads up to be away from the mansion that day, for I have never seen my stepmother in such throes of excitement before. I swear the woman was having seizures, all her fluttering about and her high pitched squeals, the sisters weren't much better either. I thought the mansion was going to come down from all the screams that emitted from their mouths. I am surprised that none of the windows or crystal glasses were broken. My ears are still ringing.
Again, my father is a coward, because for the last week I have to been subjected to the horrors of 'Lady Life' and if he had been here, he would have gotten an ear full from me about his cruelty. Dress fittings, embroidery, hairstyling, etiquette lessons and nail trimmings have filled up my days since that horrendous letter arrived. Try as I might, I rarely escaped stepmother's clutches, no matter how annoying or insistent my tapping was, for she couldn't hear it above all the twittering of the Steps. I'm surprised that I am not yet deaf, for the Steps have not stopped chattering about the Prince and his amazingness and how glorious this ball will be.
Whoop deee dooo…. I don't want to go to the ball, but by order of my father, I am to attend. And because of his cruel orders, all day yesterday I was forced to suffer through a journey to my father's smaller estate closer to the Palace with the stepfamily. Oh the torture! I longed to throw myself out of the carriage and run far, far away, where I would then embark upon many amazing adventures and never have to go to the ball. While the Steps nattered away at my ears about the ball and their gowns, I stared out the window and daydreamed about all the wonderful adventures I could be having. I thought of many escape scenarios that sadly were not at all realistic. Though my favorite was being attacked and kidnapped by bandits... Not only would that get me out of the carriage, but it would 'force' me to miss the ball! (boohoo) I have to admit, the hysterics I imagined for the steps at this scenario were pretty hilarious.
The very next morning began the No Good, Very Bad, Absolutely Horrible, Most Terrible Day of My Life! First, my father betrayed me and detained me from running away early in the morning! I couldn't believe it! Because of his betrayal, I was forced to sit in a chair all day and get all 'prettied up' and turned into a 'Lady.' As if I haven't been tortured enough the past couple of days, but today was the worst of all.
First, I was forced into a bath, which I don't mind, as long as other people are not around but no… There were not one, but two maids 'helping me.' One was scrubbing me, which was not only embarrassing, but painful as well, while the other maid was pulling my hair out. According to her, she was 'washing it,' but it felt more like she was yanking and trying to rip all my hair from my scalp. I complained bitterly and threatened them the whole time, but they ignored me, having obviously been warned not to listen to my threats by my former favorite parent and stepmother.
Next, they forced me into the first layer of the 'greatest waste of money ever spent' aka my gown. This first layer consisted of the petticoat with the corset over top of it, which they pulled horribly tight, even though they did not need to. I'm slender and have not chest. And no matter how much they pull those ties in the back, I am not going to get any bigger in the chest area, thank you very much. The maids again blatantly ignored me; they evidently feared my stepmother's threats than mine. They then pulled, yanked, curled and twisted my hair into a horribly painful arrangement atop my head, which made my sore scalp even sorer. I wanted to cry and almost started to, (I will admit a few tears leaked out on several vicious yanks of my hair), when the maids forbid that as well, for they started painting my face with stuff. I have seen such concoctions on the Step's faces and never wanted them on mine! But yet again, no surprise, they tisked away my arguments.
The tisking maids continued to tisk some more when they saw the condition of my nails. Somehow I messed them up from the earlier beauty treatments this week, but really, there is only a chip or two in most of them. What did they expect after days of insistent tapping? They proceeded to not only cut, shape and mourn over how short they now were, but to apply polish as well! What in the world on they putting on my body! Don't I have any say in this? Evidently, the answer is no.
I wanted to desperately run away! I now wished that I really had been kidnapped by bandits. I was willing to get up, as I was, half clothed and sprint from my room, which currently was my prison from hell. But sadly, I am not one for sprinting in petticoats and corsets. I will run in peasant dresses, but with a corset on, I would not have enough room to breathe properly. I would most likely pass out before I made it out of the house. Though, now that I think about it, if I passed out, I wouldn't have to go to this wretched ball! There may be some merit to this plan after all.
But throughout the morning and through the afternoon, my dearest step mama fluttered in and out of my room *cough*prison*cough* in between her own beauty treatments, checking on my progress. Each time she entered she gushed about her little angels, how wonderful they were and how beautiful they looked. Gag me! Please? She would then compliment me, not on how beautiful I looked, but on what a wonderful job the maids were doing. And how much prettier I will be when they were finished. What am I? Just a canvas? Evidently. And of course I could never compare to her little angels. Oh No… Never… 'Well,' I thought, 'why would I ever want to be compared to them? '
So, please let me know what you think! Please?
I took all my stories down a while ago, but this story wants to be finished. So this is the only story (so far) that I am rewriting and finishing. (hopefully)