Ellerie Knowles

I happened to pick a pink dress when I wore one years ago for what was probably my first makeover.

It’s a normal activity to have your parents read bedtime stories to you. In my household, my dad told a fantasy narrative called “Princess Ellerie.” The story was a retelling of my life from the perspective of my life as a princess in a fairytale land. They stopped as I got older, as many things do, but they have held a place in my heart. 

I’ve always been a girly-girl. I loved dresses, princesses, getting pedicures and Starbucks with my mom, and spending hours aimlessly walking around the mall. I avoided sports at all costs and preferred not to get dirty unless it was sand at the beach. I have always loved being girly, and I’ve strived to keep that in me and also stay a nice person. You could imagine winning Homecoming Queen would be little Ellerie’s dream, a fruition of the stories her dad would tell her in her pink, Hawaiian quilted bed with her stuffed animals listening in with awe.

Of course, initially, I felt overwhelmed with joy, but after the initial shock, I felt bad. What is it about me that I deserve to win over other girls who are just as nice, and definitely prettier and more popular than I am? I still felt happy, but I also felt guilty as people congratulated me and took pictures with me, and a shiny tiara sat on my messy curls. I felt that to stay nice, I had to not fully accept my situation, that I couldn’t be as happy because it would be show-off-ish and inconsiderate. I felt bad every time I brought it up and tried to brush it off. I convinced myself that it wasn’t supposed to be me, and that I didn’t deserve it. 

After, my mom showed me a picture from years ago when I went to the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique in Disney World. I was all dressed up in my Aurora gown, with hair, nails, and makeup done, and a tiara resting on my head. Somehow, I almost looked identical in my pink court dress and tiara as I did so many years ago. 

It felt like it was all of a sudden meant to be. I thought about how my grandma said she heard little girls saying they “wanted the girl in the pink dress to win,” and how little me definitely would’ve agreed. Having my favorite color as blue, I surprised myself by choosing the pink option, but after seeing the picture, it seemed like maybe I expected it. 

I cried. I realised how happy I honestly was about winning. It felt full circle, and like I finally had my moment. So many times in my life, I push the spotlight to other people and things, and I finally had something that was truly mine. My friends told me I deserved it, and so did many other people. I finally have accepted that I think I did. I still hate to admit it, but I enjoyed the compliments, the praise, and everything. I enjoyed being one of six people walking around a football game in a full-length dress. 

I feel more noticed, and before I felt like I was an irrelevant person in the school. I feel like a valued and looked-up-to person in other people’s lives.

I would never let it get to me and be cocky about it, but I’m happy I won. 

I genuinely enjoyed the tiara the most. The shiny piece of plastic felt like it made me, me. I can only imagine what little me would think. All my “Princess Ellerie” stories are in some way real rather than fantasy now. I feel like I’ve made her proud, and maybe it’s bad that it’s not in some selfless or genuine way, but I definitely think that this is what she would’ve wanted. 

I don’t think I’ve changed as much as I think. My tiara is sitting on top of my dresser, right next to the same tiara I wore 14 years ago after my makeover. I still love princesses, avoid sports and bugs, prefer to shop over many other pastimes, and always want my nails done. I still have the same baby blankets and a dalmatian stuffed animal named Lucky that I sleep with every night, despite being 17. I still devote my life to dance, and practically scream in the car every time I see a dog. I am still a nice person, at least enough people tell me enough that I’m willing to say it without seeming cocky. I’m still the girl I’ve always been, but I’m also finally accepting what I have.