A Cinderella Story

A few hours of being a princess, but a lifetime to remember. 

It was a windy October morning. Everyone was rushing past, getting ready for the wedding. Being the wallflower that I am, I stood at the background, watching the other bridesmaids fussing over their headdresses. I was the last one to have my makeup done, and I was struggling to wear my snugly fit gown as the wedding coordinator hollered that the photoshoot with the bride was way behind schedule. Just great.

As I watched my reflection on the mirror, I was shell-shocked. I could hardly recognize the slender young woman, donned with a red empire-cut gown with a red hat sitting atop the now-ironed hair. I looked surprisingly gorgeous. 

For that one day, I felt like Cinderella. A few hours ago, I was just in my plain old jeans and pink hoodie top. Now I looked like some princess that came out from a fairy-tale book. But unlike Cinderella, I ruined my shoes while running, not just leaving it for some prince to pick up. And unlike her, I didn't dance gracefully at the ballroom. I was like a stiff rod, barely knowing what dance step was next, stepping over my dance partner's shoes every chance I got.

As I swayed to the tune of the music, the lovey-dovey aura of the wedding suddenly struck me. Everything looked so marvelous. The soft reddish hue of the lights and the sparkly overhead decorations made the mood all the more festive and romantic. I had the time of my life, laughing and dancing and goofing around.

When the night ended, I reverted to my normally plain look, stripping off from my princess-like facade. My head was still up on the clouds even after a few days after that night, and I wondered: Will I be like Cinderella that after the ball, a charming prince will come searching for me? Will I have my happily ever after?


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