I Tried The Sleeping Beauty Diet And I’m Gonna Eat My Prince When He Show Up
As a good-hearted, courageous princess, I totally understand that a diet may not be feasible to the working woman/peasant. I know many of you have children to rear and like, goats to tend? I’ve definitely seen goats out there, so my guess is you’re tending them— because peasant men are useless, amiright? See, we’re the same!
But for a compassionate, respectful princess like me, those extra goat-tending pounds can be a fatal flaw. Let’s face it: No one wants a fat princess, no matter what Teen Vogue says. That’s why I let a fairy curse me and have finally snoozed the pounds away on the Sleeping Beauty Diet.
Because you can’t stuff your face when you’re unconscious!
The curse part was weird, I’ll be real with y’all! A whole torrent of mystical energy and becoming one with the universe and stuff. The point is: instant snooze cruise. According to the fairy—who I like to think of as a personal trainer of sorts—this segment of the Sleeping Beauty Diet should last anywhere from one to 100 years, depending on my basal metabolic burn rate. I don’t know what those words mean, but my first goal was to be able to take a deep breath in this bodice, and man did I hit my target!
The biggest challenge.
Holy shit does being asleep give you a lot of time to dream about food! The first couple decades, I was constantly dreaming about lardy-cakes, marchpane candies, and sweetmeats. Eventually, though, your body starts to adjust, and you can tell that you’re heading toward your ultimate goal.
And what is that goal? Being a fleshless and foine enough princess to finally attract a prince to come save you, of course! I’m sure that soon my prince will come, handsome, hearty, and dressed in butter.
Did I say butter? I mean raiments fair.
Okay, real talk: Around decade two, I realized my goals were shifting away from true-love’s kiss and more towards biting out the prince’s tongue and serving it on a bed of fresh greens. Dreams of his taut, muscular body quickly became worries that all his healthy exercise slaying monsters might reduce the essential fatty component of a good liver. And man, was I looking forward to eating his liver.
Human flesh, as I understand it, is fairly low in carbs. So I have to ask myself: Is it really breaking my diet to eat a prince? I mean I haven’t had a meal in twenty-five years, and let’s face it: How can I be sure these princes didn’t just show up because of my newly-hot body, anyway?
The way I see it, as a survivor of this diet/curse I can help demolish sexist barriers by devouring like, the first two or three princes that come my way. Right? And remember, a diet isn’t just about results, it’s about lifestyle. And my new one will be ridding the world of shallow men with savior complexes.
Ooh, what’s that I hear? Steps on the tower stair? You’d better look away. It’s go time.