I’ve had 2 people call me a princess in the past week. Both times I was caught of guard and not sure if I should be offended.
With my friend Jen, discussing the topic of expectations:
Jen: The impression I get from your blog is that your parents cherish you as a princess and think you’re capable of anything.
Jen: I don’t mean it in a bratty princess way!
A few days later I was giving my friend and potential future roommate, Erin M, a tour of my apartment.
Me: My room is pretty girly.
Erin: Haha, yeah it is. I might have called you a princess this morning.
Erin: Yeah, I told my friends, “Natalie’s a princess. I don’t know if she can live in Vanier.” (The supposed “crime capital” of Ottawa).
“I am a princess. All girls are.”
These days when I think of the word “princess” the terms that pop into my mind are “spoiled”, “snobby”, and “standoffish.” Which is why being called a princess didn’t really strike me as a compliment. (Especially in the latter context).
But then I remembered what a princess really is: royalty. And that’s truly how I see myself. I am a child of God – the King. That makes me a princess. And in this position of honour we extend honour by treating others and ourselves not as we are, but as God created us to be: his princes and princesses.
All this talk of royalty made me think of my favourite childhood movie, “A Little Princess.” A few months ago my friend Margarita told me that our favourite movie or piece of literature from our childhood reveals the archetype that we most closely identify ourselves with.
It makes even more sense years later when I watch my favourite scene from the movie: