Reflections on the Tale of Cinderella
When you first read the tale of Cinderella at age four or five, you probably focus on the wonder of the protagonist's rag-to-riches luck. As you grow older, the glitter dust starts to fade and you begin to ask some serious questions until you realize that a fairy tale's not a true reflection of life. (Such doubts arise around the same time that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny lose their luster.) Here are just a few of the questions the burgeoning skeptic's likely to ask:
How come Cinderella's fairy godmother didn't come to her rescue much sooner? Did she just graduate from fairy training school a decade too late?
How on earth did Cinderella stand in glass slippers without them shattering? Like all fairy tale princesses, she surely had a willowy figure, but hopefully she wasn't anorexic, either.
How did Cinderella dance in glass slippers? Shouldn't she have kicked them off during the ball?
If Cinderella's carriage was really made from a pumpkin, wouldn't she have arrived to the ball with seeds and orange, stringy flesh all over her gown? Didn't the prince wonder why she smelled like a pumpkin?
Wasn't there some other girl in the kingdom who wore the same shoe size as Cinderella?