Not every day in the life of a Fairy Godmother is magical. Some days you will have princesses who absolutely are not interested in having a makeover even if mommy wants them too. There will be princesses with hair so matted and mangled that you can't figure out how mommy expects you to do anything with it. And, of course, some times you will take twice as long as you should to do a hair style right. Sometimes being magic is really hard but what makes being a Fairy Godmother different than any other job (at least those of the non-magic variety) is that no matter how much they fussed, no matter how big of a rat's nest you started with, and no matter how impossibly long it took you to finish, when you turn your princess around and say the magic words you get to watch her sparkle as she realizes how beautiful she is and that makes everything worthwhile.
Yesterday was my first day as a non-trainee Fairy Godmother in Training and I was more than a little nervous. The boutique offers three hairstyles, two that I love and one that I despise with the fiery passion of a thousand circles of Hades, and throughout my training I had only had to do the first two on actual girls. I had done all three, of course, on mannequin heads earlier in my training but mannequin hair pretty much has nothing to do with people hair. My very first princess sat down in the chair and I asked "Which style would you like, Princess?" She pointed to the dreaded style 3. Crap. Crap crap crap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrappitycrap.
"Ok, Princess. Let's get started!"
It took me absolutely forever. At least twice as long as it was supposed to take. I suppose I could have totally botched it to make time but the perfectionist in me wouldn't let this princess walk out without the exact style she asked for. After all, she may only be my first princess of the day but for her this is her one special princess makeover and I was not about to let her be disappointed with the results. When I turned my princess around, after making an hour's worth of cheery conversation, I could feel the tears burning behind my eyes, my chest reddening, and the back of my head pounding as I silently read myself the riot act, but my princess opened her eyes and her mouth bloomed in to a radiant smile and I smiled too.
"Do you like it, Princess?
"I look awesome!"
Oh thank God.
As if to prove that for every time you screw up so badly you make yourself cry internally (despite the fact that absolutely no one is mad at you but you) there is an opportunity to do something so good you make yourself cry internally (despite the fact that you are very happy) there was Princess Emma. Princess Emma is four (she "used to be three but [she's] done with that now,") and chatted away with me the entire time I did her hair, (style 1!) nails, and makeup telling me everything from what she planned to do after her appointment to all the pets she would like to have and what she would name them. Her hair turned out beautifully and was done in a timely fashion and when I turned her around (after a very sincere pinky promise that she wouldn't peek until I said "boo") her face lit up so bright she could have joined the Electric Light Parade. She clapped her hands and laughed and bounced in her seat and when I asked her if she liked it she nodded so hard I worried for the bun's safety.
Princess Emma bounded off to join her parents and equally made over sister and I headed to the back to wash up. When I returned I spotted Princess Emma holding her mom's hand and looking around worriedly. Her mom pointed to me and my princess came running, arms outstretched, and when I knelt to her height she threw her arms around my neck and squeezed for all she was worth. I hugged her back and had to look toward the ceiling to keep the little tears from sliding, tellingly, down my heavily glittered cheeks.
"Thank you, Fairy Godmother Morgan!"
"You're welcome, Princess!"
Thank you, Princess.
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