“When you get here, hop in the back seat of my car. I’m in the Black Toyota Corolla parked out front,” the woman cryptically instructed from the other end of the phone line—her low, raspy voice, a clear indication that she was a chronic smoker. “You can change into your costume there.”
This was my new boss, Lisa, and it was the first day of my first paying job. I was a princess—yes, that’s right, a princess. Or at least that’s what I thought I was signing up for. Lisa was a small, leathery-skinned woman in her late sixties who lacked personality and appeared to have an incredibly low tolerance for children, and yet ironically, ran a children’s party entertainment business.
I located her small, beat up black Corolla parked directly in front of a sprawling mansion overlooking the ocean. It looked painfully out of place.
My hair, curled. My makeup, overdone. My confidence level, a solid 9. I strode over and swung open the back door. To my horror, all I saw was a pile of bright red fur.
“Hey there, young lady,” Lisa hacked from the front seat. “You’re going to be Elmo today.”
I learned two valuable lessons that first day:
If you’re ever dressing up as some sort of costumed character, make sure the head is securely attached, otherwise when it swivels backwards during a two year old’s birthday party, not only will you be unable to see, you will terrify all the children and, more than likely, not receive a tip.
Character heads prevent you from seeing out of your periphery, so, you know, make sure the coast is clear. I learned this lesson the hard way. Perhaps this prevented me from receiving a tip as well.
…
Being a children’s entertainer isn’t all terribly horrible though. I did in fact get to dress up as a princess many times over. It was the job of my childhood dreams. I was Jasmine and Belle, Sleeping Beauty and Snow White. But, the most coveted costume of them all was the Big Pink Princess Dress.
Lisa had invested a small fortune into this one, gigantic dress. It really was stunning. A beautiful shade of ballerina pink, sleeves that hung off the shoulders, a blanket of glittering jewels covered the bodice, and the skirt was made up of layers upon layers of tulle.
The thing with this dress was that it’s skirt was so large it would be impossible to change into in the back of Lisa’s Toyota Corolla. So, whenever I was hired to wear the Big Pink Princess Dress, I would change at home and drive to the party fully costumed. This was never a problem.
That is, until the day I ran out of gas in the middle of July.
Let me tell you, there are few things more awkward than standing silently in an unfortunately long line alongside other paying customers while wearing a massive pink princess dress in the middle of July. Oh and just to make things a tinge more awkward, I couldn’t fit through the door without some assistance from my fellow customers. Not one smile was cracked, not a word exchanged, I couldn’t bear to make eye contact. The discomfort of our collective situation hung in the air as we attempted to go on with our normal lives, ignoring the princess in the room.
…
Unfortunately that wasn’t my only embarrassing moment. Turns out the children’s entertainment business is full of a multitude of opportunities to make a fool of yourself.
Like the time I was hired to be a hula instructor (mind you, I hadn’t the slightest bit of knowledge on Hawaiian culture, let alone hula dancing). I showed up in my coconut shells and grass skirt with a large hibiscus tucked behind my ear. I definitely looked the part and my confidence made up for my lack of knowledge, or so I thought.
“Hola, everyone!” I cheerfully waved at the group of children.
“It’s Aloha,” a boy from the front row sneered.
Welp, there was no fooling them.
…
There’s also the time I was asked to dress up as the dog from Blue’s Clues for an 11 year old’s birthday party. You might be thinking, that’s an odd choice.
It really is.
But they had a smattering of two year olds that would be present, so they graciously hired a big blue dog to ensure everyone had a good time, including the toddlers. Unfortunately for me, the preteens took more interest in my presence than the two year olds. Perhaps because I was given strict instructions not to speak (since that would be terribly out of character for a dog), which made me a perfect candidate for twenty questions, but more likely, because a big blue dog makes for a great punching bag.
My only defense was to viciously wag my finger at them while the parents chatted away in the backyard. I was not set up for success.
…
Over the years, I became a bit of an expert when it came to children’s entertainment. I learned how to make balloon animals and face paint. I had a solid repertoire of songs that could win over a crowd and a riveting backstory prepared for whatever princess I was that day. I was ready for all the questions the skeptics threw my way. “How’d you get here, if you’re a mermaid?” “Where’s your castle?” “Why didn’t you come on your magic carpet?” “Since you can talk to animals, can you talk to my dog?”
Because I was one of the more “advanced” princesses at this point, Lisa decided to allow me to run the whole show without her.
The drill was always the same. I would show up, set up my little station, flip on my boom box, and begin singing as I gathered the children around for storytime.
Well, one day, things went horribly awry.
First, I should set the scene. This party was held at a local park, right down the street from my house and I was hired to dress up as Princess Ariel. The thing you should know about this Ariel costume is, I had to wear a floor length turquoise sequins gown with sequins seashells on the breast, along with a bright red wig that had definitely seen better days. The whole costume had me looking eerily close to a drag queen.
So now, back to the story.
I set up my station and began belting out, Part of That World, as I walked through the crowd beckoning children to come sit with me. Once I gathered a good amount of kids I began storytime. However, there was a steady stream of parents walking over and anxiously scooping up their children as they glared my way.
Feeling confused, and a little worried I’d miss out on my tip if the kids weren’t being properly entertained, I jumped ahead to the crowd favorite, aka balloon animals.
“Gather ‘round, children! It’s time for balloon animals,” I declared.
Only a handful of kids indulged me, while the rest hovered around, staring.
Feeling slightly defeated, I started whipping up balloon animals at a rapid pace and just handing them out at random, hoping someone, anyone, would be delighted by the gesture. But the glaring looks only increased.
At a loss on what to do, I walked back to my station to recalibrate. Staring off in the distance, I noticed another birthday party carrying on, clear on the opposite side of the park, full of purple and turquoise balloons and streamers, the perfect combination of colors for a mermaid party. That’s right. A mermaid party. My stomach lurched.
I WAS AT THE WRONG PARTY!!!
The horror set in immediately as I took in the faces of everyone around me. Suddenly I became acutely aware of why I was on the receiving end of such disturbed glances. To them I was a strange woman who showed up at a random child’s birthday party and attempted to play with all their kids.
I hurriedly admitted my situation to an older gentleman sitting at a bench nearby. I honestly don’t remember if he was even part of the party, to be honest with you. Hands shaking, I promptly packed up my things and waddled my way across the big grassy field to the right party.
I wonder, do they still talk about that day a crazy mermaid drag queen crashed the birthday party? Cringe.
…
All that to say, I don’t think I was cut out for the princess life after all. So, I traded in my tiara and am now happily retired and just surviving with a minor case of PTSD from the whole thing. 😜
Dying 🤣
Amazing stories and fortitude! I remember you were playing princesses at parties but never heard of these ‘failures’ which obviously made you stronger! I was worried that maybe your coconut shells weren’t covering you up…hence the awkward stares. So that you were only at the wrong party, was such a relief!