Storybook Endings

Ahhh love, and marriage, and goodbyes. Along with the rush to the altar was the rush to make some important life decisions involving a possible cross-country move and a semi-permanent full-time job. (Those of you who know my job history can whoop and hollar. The rest of you: my jobs have been plentiful, I was laid off twice within two months and at one point divided my 90 hour work week between five jobs.)

As it stands we're making the move and I've committed to the almost full-time status for the next four to eight weeks. In doing so I ended two with two of my clients this week and ended my Disney Fairytale Princess titles.

You may remember my 15 minutes as Snow White which still invokes giggles. What cemented my Disney fate was my wedding dress. Many dress shops opened their doors to my frantic pleas. Many shopkeepers and sales ladies insisted that each new dress fit better, looked better and brought a light to my face. And I believed them all, also believing that my new career would be wedding dress model. Until one lady told me that the best part about my dream dress (the only dress I purchased) was the way it cinched my waist, you know so I wouldn't look fat.

"I've seen many girls skinnier than Breanna."

Ouch. Still hurts.

All that needed to be done were some simple alterations. A tuck at the waist (even my fuller figure needed a smaller size) and some sleeves added. The sleeves I constructed looked great and also like something from the closets of Belle, Jasmine, Cinderella or Auroa. DISNEY it screamed while I bit my lip and decided if ever I should feel like a princess my wedding would be it.

Four days later I showed up to work and instantly had to recap the event with my client, a ten-year-old boy. His mom stressed my beauty and the ceremony, the significance of a husband and wife. The boy? His face lit up as he called me Tinkerbell.

I'm just saying that if we miss the road to Peoria I might zip down to Disney World for auditions.

Just Another Manic Monday

Especially if you are commonly mistaken for a celebrity. Mondays for me are are the .5 day of my 1.5 day weekend. Translation—I feel pretty comfortable not showering, fixing my hair or applying makeup and I dress for comfort in bright fashion. And it works, especially when you need to spend an hour with strangers.

I went to a day program to observe someone I work with planning on quietly standing in the corner. I forgot to factor in the Christmas spirit which is more rampant in the youth and special needs demographic. As ten minutes passed one of the staff there skipped up to me.

She seemed about my age and a fun bubbly girl with long dark hair and bright eyes. So when she gushed immediately about my natural beauty I felt awkward and underdressed. Then she kept going, my long dark hair that she noticed the first time I'd visited the program and arrived at the conclusion that I was the most beautiful woman she'd seen. Ah-hem. What do you say to that? Thanks and what time did you want to pick me up for our date? Again I repeat I felt awkward.

The blushed burned a little deeper when moments later one of the clients asked about me. My admirer asked the special needs person if I looked familiar...maybe like Snow White.

"SNOW WHITE?! Is she really Snow White?" the girl exclaimed with complete sincerity.

The staff laughed and nodded her head yes. In seconds she had crossed the room running at top speed and plowed into me.

"I'm so glad to meet you. Are you Snow White?" she asked.

Hmmm. Who am I to disappoint at Christmas. In my most regally sweet voice I answered yes and dramatically dropped my curved hand into hers and shook it like a queen.

A line soon formed and I wished for a ball gown with a red cape.