Hi! I’m Miranda Blake and this is my story. Well, sort of. It’s more like a twisted fairytale, if you believe in them. Except there’s no beautiful, young princess with perky breasts, perfectly coiffed hair and a sassy attitude. I’m closing in on fifty, thirty pounds overweight according to Weight Watchers, and, after nursing two kids and that bitch, gravity, doing her job, I’m lucky the ladies don’t hit my knees. The gorgeous brown mane of hair is slightly frizzy from my ridiculous attempts to recapture my youth by dyeing the hell out of it. As for sassy attitude, well, it wasn’t so long ago that I was a doormat. And the charming prince who sweeps me off my feet into the life of my dreams? I have a dog called Prince, German Shepherd, who knocks me on my ass if I’m in the way when the doorbell rings. Does that count?
In fairytales, the princess was usually helped by giving, compassionate companions of the animal variety for some reason. You would never see me anywhere near raccoons, squirrels, or–shudders–birds. I’d seen the movies. I knew the death tolls. Actually, no, I wasn’t like them because I had friends, not minions to do my bidding. The kind that believed if life gave you lemons…well, you’ve heard the saying. Although, one of them would make a lovely lemon pound cake served with the appropriate tea and a dollop of exquisite whipped cream. While another would grab the tequila and salt and make margaritas. Yet another would slice the lemons right open, squirt her enemies in the eye as she growled and screamed, “Die, motherfucker!” And finally, my peace-loving friend would make cannabis lemon bars and pass them around with a smile while a hint of patchouli clung to her caftan. I’d simply add them to my water to counter any vitamin C deficiency and continue with my day.
Now, fairytales, folklore, and the occasional urban legend notwithstanding, my life was pretty ordinary, but wasn’t that how these stories start out?
Once upon a time…