Once upon a time, (more specifically, in the 1980s or '90s) in a grocery store or pharmacy within a 10-mile radius...
There lived a girl. This girl is you. And all she wanted was to be the prettiest girl in all the land.
You venture out to said grocery store with the king or queen, alternately known as mom or dad. You surreptitiously guide the cart into the innocent-seeming bath and body isle...
You're just looking. For stuff you might need. "I need a bar of soap," you say with purpose. When all of a sudden — what's this? — you pass some pink packaging, "OH WOW LOOK AT THIS MOM THIS IS COOL."
Can I please pretty please get this? *puppy dog face*
Please? It's sooooo beautiful.
It's so pretty I need it.
If you are with dad — score! You win! He has caved either because he is a pushover or he knows you're also reading My Body, My Self and just can't deal.
It is probably the latter. Your father is weirded out by you and you guys never talk or hug anymore, but never fear! Tinkerbell cosmetics totally fill that void.
If you're with mom she'll be like NO. You'll be like, "But mooooom whyyy."
"You don't need makeup. You're just a little girl," she'll say.
You're prepared for this response and you'll tell her, "But it's not real makeup." (It is real makeup.) "It's pretend! And it's a peel-off nail polish that won't mess up the carpet."
She pauses. She's considering...
...inspecting the package. What's in this stuff anyway?
I really need this for school.
And then she gives you the silent, size-you-up stare. Your mother is Betty Draper.
But you are Sally Draper. You can take it.
And finally she says, "fine." In exchange, she will make you perform a horrible chore, but for now you don't care. You won! You have all the things! You are a pretty, pretty Tinkerbell girl.
