Fairy tales are bizarre. They are full of sexual innuendo, corrupted morals, oversimplified ethical dilemmas, bizarre behavior, intense violence, and general weirdness. I have often thought that much of the weirdness inherent in most fairy tales is fairly well exemplified by a fundamental problem I have long had with the story of Cinderella: how the hell does the prince apparently have no idea what she looks like after dancing with her all night? Is he just a pervy sort who spent all night staring at her chest? Does he have prosopagnosia? Is he actually in love with the shoe and just looking for anyone who fits it? Is there some ancient curse on his family that can only be lifted by marrying a woman with exactly that size foot? Is he a very focused foot fetishist?
And of course the real logical answer is that the “dancing” wasn’t dancing at all, but rather an activity that did not force the prince to view Cinderella’s face. You can use your imagination there; but, especially considering the prince’s possibly already-established foot fetish, there are plenty of directions to go. Dancing is always a metaphor for sexual activity anyway, and the specifics of what’s happening around this dancing suggest something other than just making out. So, is there actually a veiled sexual agenda to Cinderella? Continue reading