Once upon a time there was a princess. The little girl was full of wonder and possibility. She spent most of her days wearing evidence of the world she loved to explore. Scuffed up tennis shoes, patched knee jeans, mud stained t-shirts and a kool-aid-kissed, half-cocked smirk on her face was the preferred attire. The queen allowed this because, afterall, she had the younger, pretty princess who was being readied for the day when a prince would arrive to claim his prize.
Only on the days when the trusted one would come to take the princesses out for an adventure did the queen insist that the older of princesses don appropriate attire. In response to mild protests of the daughter, the queen responded, "He's asked that you wear a dress to go out for this special dinner. You don't want to disappoint him. If you do, he will only take your sister. Do you want that?" And so, reluctantly the princess slipped the cold the slick, satiny slip over her arms, released her will as the queen tied the ribbon of the frilly dress in the back, put on two pair of britches, two pair of socks and the shiny black shoes-and waited by the door.
Even as the princess waited, she wondered why everytime the trusted one came she had to wear a dress. But everytime, she complied with his requests. In her heart, she promised herself it would be okay. Slipping deeply into one of the stories of her mind, returning only when the safety of her mud-stained t-shirt was securely wrapped around her body.