28: Princess Sissy

28: Princess Sissy

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Best Mom Ever!

Princess Sissy

Every girl deserves to be treated like a princess.

~Heidi Montag

I was on the playground one day, and some kids were making fun of the hair on my arms. Evidently it was thicker than the hair on their arms, so they were relentless and made me cry. “Oh, gross! Look at the hair on her arms. She’s gross. Get away from her; she’ll grab you with her hairy arms. Run!”

Needless to say, it was a bad day. I got home and snuck into the bathroom and shut the door. I took out my dad’s double edge razor and started to shave the hair off my arm when suddenly my mom opened the door and grabbed the razor from my hand.

“Sissy, what do you think you’re doing? You could cut your arm off!” Mom put the razor on the shelf and turned me around to face her.

“The kids were laughing at me because I have all this hair on my arms. They kept laughing and saying bad stuff about me.”

“Do any of the other girls have hair on their arms like you?” Mom asked.

“No! Just ugly old me!”

“Do you know why the other girls don’t have hair on their arms like yours, Sissy?” Mom said lovingly.

“Because they’re prettier than me?” I said, sobbing.

“No, Sissy, it’s because you’re going to be a princess. How many princesses do you know?”

“Cinderella and… Sleeping Beauty and… I can’t think of any more.”

“Do you know why you can’t think of any more?”


“It’s because not every little girl gets to be a princess. Having a lot of hair on your arms is a sign that you will grow up to be a beautiful princess. Those other girls will just be normal women. You are special.”

“I am? Did you have lots of hair on your arms when you were little, Mom?” I asked as I wiped my nose and eyes.

“No, Sissy. I’m just a woman with a very special little girl who will grow up to be the most beautiful princess ever. Now you know the secret of being a princess.”

The next day I went to school with my little secret. One of the girls came up to me and made a comment about the hair on my arms. I smiled at her and said, “That’s because I am going to be a princess. Look at your arms; you have hardly any hair. You’re just a regular girl. I’m special. Only special girls get to be a princess.”

All the girls were looking at the hair on their arms that day. Mom was right. Not every girl can be a princess. I was the only one in Mrs. Turney’s second grade class.

~Bev Walters

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