just minishorts.

I've just let my hair grow long again. It just wouldn't do to go around calling myself Rapunzel when my tresses aren't even halfway to my back. Just a few weeks ago my mother snipped my very very long hair off in anger when I told her I had met the man of my dreams and I wanted to marry the guy.

I've never met Minishorts in my entire life, I was just surfing the Net and I chanced upon her version of how Snow White eloped with the Cowboy. I have not seen my cousin since she disappeared and reading about what actually happened made me decide that maybe I should tell my now-famous-story myself rather than let some demented and holier-than-thou Malaysian blogger mess up the truth for you.

At least she was nice enough to allow me a voice on her blog, so I must give her credit for that.

Today I will tell you about myself. Believe it or not, I'm named after a turnip-like plant, a rampion. According to my mother, who just happens to be the most powerful sorceress in this part of the nation, my real parents were greedy asses who kept on craving for the rapunzels that my mother had planted all over her vegetable patch.

Mother said that they're delicious to munch on. I've never tried them in my entire life because I just can't take to eating something that I'm named after. I love apples though, and thank God Mother didn't plant apples, else I'd be called Apple and I wouldn't even want to bite on their crunchy goodness. So I'm lucky that way I guess.

That said, my real mom was a very pregnant pig, and because of that my real dad kept climbing over the walls to steal the plant for her to eat. Of course Mother got angry, I can understand that. I mean, if I had pesky neighbours who spread stories about how evil I was just because I was unmarried and climb over MY wall to steal MY vegetables, I would be fuming mad. I would do more than take away their baby, I would kill it.

But Mother, being a nice and sensible person, decided to save me from being brought up by greedy people like my real parents. When I was born, she went to my real mother and told her that she was unfit to take care of the bouncing baby that I was. I was meant to be pretty and amazingly luscious to look at, and growing up with parents who stole from their neighbour's garden just would not do. So she gave my real parents a huge chest of gold coins (to their delight) and took me home.

After that she was thinking of some name to give me. Lissa wouldn't do, and neither did she want to be as unimaginative as to give me a name like Snow White or Sleeping Beauty. So she named me after the turnips rampions in her garden, and that is how my name came to be Rapunzel.

I'm not alone in the way I perceive these stories. A more established and well-known writer thinks that the original versions are not healthy for our children either (link courtesy of Danny Foo).

But first, I'd like to inform readers that I have very reluctantly allowed a guest blogger who forcefully demanded that I allowed her to share her experiences (with my readers) regarding her fortunes and misfortunes in a first person analysis, as opposed to the 'horrendously disgusting method of narration' that I have employed. Apparently, I've been doing a horrible job and this esteemed princess South-East of Fairytale-land has not taken too kindly to it.

Rest assured that Rapunzel will be a guest for a limited time only, just until she's over with her rants, I think.

So bear with me yeah. I too don't quite like bratty princesses with very very long hair running a freaking rampage all over my blog.