Cinderella at the Ball

I can't remember whether I've ever commented on this on my blog before, but I love the story of Cinderella.

There's just something about the story ... it touches my heart and makes me melt inside every time I read it (or hear it ... or watch it). Funnily enough ... bearing in mind that I'm not really 'the romantic type' ... and I don't believe in 'love at first sight' ... and I don't think I'm 'The Cinderella Type' either. But ...

On New Year's Eve, my church held A Masked Ball. And I decided not to go. For three very good reasons:

1. My sister, who works for the church, was going in one of the family cars and staying overnight with a friend ... and I didn't like to ask my father to take me (and collect me) in the other family car.
2. I don't have a ball dress.
3. I don't dance.

So ... all-in-all, it didn't make any sense for me to go and I decided not to go.

Instead, I decided to have a nice, quiet, relaxing evening at home.

Good.

But ... do you know how bewitching and tantalising the very name and idea of 'a masked ball' is? Or what it's like to be (apparently!) the only girl on Facebook who is not going to a New Year's Eve ball or party? Or to love the story of Cinderella (and of 'Pride and Prejudice', for that matter!) and have (secretly) longed to go to a ball all your life ... and to have a ball taking place within a few miles of you ... but without you?!?

Anyway, there didn't seem much point in moaning and complaining, so I got on with my nice, quiet, relaxing evening at home.

My father came home from work and found, sitting in front of the sitting room fire, not crying - but framing a poster I bought for my room and wanted to hang up the next day. He sat down on the couch and looked at me thoughtfully. I looked at him enquiringly. And then - to my surprise - he said The Words:

"Cinderella, do you want to go to the ball?"

My father has never called me 'Cinderella' before, but he's so sweet and his offer was so kind:

"Would you like me to take you to the ball and come and collect you again after it?"

I assured my father that I didn't want to keep him up half the night, taking me to - and collecting me from - the ball. I also pointed out that I don't have a ball dress. And I reminded him that I don't dance (and added that there's very little point in going to a ball and not dancing).

But my father told me that if he didn't want to take me to - and collect me from - the ball, he wouldn't have offered to be my chauffeur for the night ... and that I have lots of pretty skirts and tops ... and that I didn't have to dance with anyone, but could just chat with friends.

So ... 'Cinderella' went to the ball!

The 'transformation' took a little while ...

As I told my father, I'm more of a denim-skirt-and-fun-sweater kind of girl than a ball-dress-and-glass-slippers kind of girl. But eventually I was all dressed up in one of my 'pretty skirts and tops' - and a very pretty hair slide and the bracelet my parents gave me on my sixteenth birthday and a pair of high heeled shoes (I don't know why, but high heeled shoes always make my feel pretty and party-ish!). My mother and my sisters made me a mask - blue, with sparkly bits, in the shape of a butterfly.

Maybe it was the excitement of being Cinderella or going to A Masked Ball or fulfilling a life-long wish ... but I think I looked quite nice!

And I had a good time!

(Just for the record - in case you're wondering! - Prince Charming was not at the ball. Unless he was disguised as one of the guys I see every Sunday ... or was un-gallant enough not to ask me to dance ... !)

I chatted with friends and watched the dancing. I saw the New Year - 2008! - 'in', hugged all my friends and wished them a happy new year, drank alcohol-free 'champagne' (the ball was held at the church ... no, the 'champagne' didn't taste great, but that's good - no one at the ball will be tempted the try 'the real thing' and be snared by alcohol!), pulled party-poppers ... and watched the (very pretty!) fireworks. My father came and collected me at a quarter past midnight and - once again feeling like Cinderella, as I slipped away from the ball, I hurried home to bed and 2008.

The next morning, I still felt like Cinderella - after the ball, returning to every day life wearing a denim skirt and a fun sweater ... but remembering the thrill of the transformation and the fun of the ball ... not to mention the kindness of the fairy godmother.

Since Prince Charming wasn't at the ball (presumably he was engaged elsewhere ... or - like Mr Darcy - he was 'in no humor to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men'), he missed meeting - and dancing with! - my sweet self and has (to date) failed to turn up on my front door step with my glass slipper in his hand. When he does come, I'll be sure to let you all know ... in the meantime, I'm actually quite happy to wait a little while ...

For him and for my glass slipper!