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I sure am living the fairy tale.
“Your Majesty,” he says in a deep baritone voice before he launches into an elaborate bow, complete with sweeping hand gestures. “It is my very deepest honor to be here.”
“Gustav, how lovely to see you again,” Grandmama says. “Allow me to introduce you to my granddaughter, Princess Madeline.”
Gustav turns his attention to me, and instantly his features drop. “Princess Madeline,” he says in a strained voice and I know just what he's thinking. He's got his work cut out for him, transforming this American girl into royalty.
He's doing nothing for my self-confidence.
“Hey,” I say with another of my dorky hand waves. I can't help it. My hand seems to have a life of its own in this place. Maybe I should try tying it to my side?
“I shall relish the challenge,” he states with a sweep of his arms.
I'm a challenge. Awesome.
Ten minutes later, a stream of assistants have entered the room where I’ve been poked, prodded, and measured, and turned from one direction to the other with the hair stylist and makeup artist and Gustav himself assessing me in my pitiful jean-clad state.
After much discussion, I'm dispensed to a bathroom where my hair is scrubbed clean, color is applied in Grandmama-approved highlights, and I return to the reception room to try on an endless array of outfits, from evening wear to day suits to elegant dresses and heels, my hair in foils the whole time.
By the end of the afternoon, I've had what little moustache I possessed ripped from my face, my eyebrows shaped, my hair highlighted and styled, and received what the esthetician called a “soft glow” tan from head to toe.
“You must see yourself before we present you to the Queen,” Gustav instructs, and a full-length mirror is wheeled in front of me.
You know when you see makeover scenes in movies and the people regard their new selves in disbelief after their transformation? Well, I hate to be a copycat but that is exactly what happens to me.
I gawk at my reflection, half wondering who this totally put together woman is gazing back at me. I know it sounds insane, but for a moment, I think it's actually Kate Middleton. As in the real Kate Middleton, only she has a look of shock and wonderment on her face. It takes a full five seconds for my brain to catch up to the fact that the woman looking back at me is… me. Only the very best version of me I could ever imagine.
My once mousy brown hair is now highlighted to perfection, my once frizzy ends now fall in soft waves. My makeup is subtle and natural but makes me look ten times better than I've looked before in my life, my figure complemented by the cut of the blue dress, cinched at the waist with a silver belt that matches the pumps on my feet.
I look like a well-heeled East Coast WASP, on my way to a charity luncheon—and one hundred percent not like the girl from Texas who visits Taco Bell way too often for her health.
“You love it,” Gustav instructs, and I can't help but agree.
“You've made me look—” I'm not quite sure what the word is to describe this complete and utter transformation.
“Like a princess,” he finishes for me, his chin lifted in triumph.
I let out a giddy laugh, still gazing at my reflection. “Yeah. I guess you did.” I turn to him. “Thank you. I thought you were going to make me look like a drag queen.”
He pulls his brows together in confusion. “But you are a woman.”
“You've got a good point there.”
“Now, we shall present you to the Queen.”
“Right.” I run my hands over the silk fabric of the dress. “She sure is going to love this.”
Gustav’s lips lift. “Of course she will. You are my masterpiece.”
“I'm not sure I'd go quite that far.”
“But of course. You must. You are a masterpiece. You are a princess,” he states with an assuredness I can only dream to possess. “A beautiful princess who will be presented to the world at the ball in the most exquisite dress and tiara!”
I swallow.
Geez. Talk about pressure.
Gustav had me try on at least a dozen ball gowns until we landed on one that I didn't feel completely ridiculous in. Seriously, the guy had me looking like 80s Princess Di, with sequins and bows and big puffy sleeves. Which was all very well for 80s Princess Di, but not so great for 21st century Princess Maddie.
