Captured on iPhone in the heart of the fashion district. A moment of pure street style brilliance, immortalized. Ladies, young queens—pop in your headphones and vibe out to Gucci This (Gucci That) by The OMG Girlz. Tilt your crown just right, step into your kingdom, and own every inch like the world was laid out for you personally. And listen—yes, Gucci is cool, obviously. But here’s the thing: it’s not just about wearing Gucci. It’s about anything that makes you feel like you rule your realm, princess energy sparkling from every pore. That thrifted jacket? Commanding. Those vintage boots you scored for $10? Majestic. Your favorite hoodie that feels like a warm hug from destiny itself? Monarch behavior, right there. If it makes you feel like you could toss on a tiara and proclaim, "This is my dominion," then it’s doing its job.
To All the Little Girls Across the United States,
You may not know this yet, but being a little girl is one of the best things in the world. You exist in this magical-between place, where every little piece of life feels full of ideas bigger than you — bigger than anyone, really. Your imaginations can turn blankets into royal capes, sprinklers into enchanted waterfalls, and maybe even a pile of glitter into the most precious stardust on earth. You laugh like it’s your favorite hobby (which, honestly, it should be), you cry because you feel (and that’s beautiful), and every time you tie a shoelace or build a block tower, you’re slowly constructing entire empires in your heart, little by little.
Right now, you get to wake up every morning and decide exactly who you want to be that day. A scientist! An adventurer! A fairy princess with a sneaky hand for cookies! You’re not just learning about the world — you’re letting it know you’re here and you’re unforgettable. You’re writing history every single day, with every daring giggle, every question you ask (yes, even the silly ones), and every little treasure you decide isn’t trash after all (your pockets get it).
Now, because I know that every princess (that’s you) has work to do to build her queendom, I have a special assignment for you. It’s like a royal decree, but more fun.
Your Princess Essay Assignment
Who is this for?
You! Yes, every single one of you out there who knows deep down that you’re not just a girl — you’re a princess in the making.
The Question:
“How can the world and the boys in your life know that you are, without a doubt, a princess in the making?”
Your job is to write a 500-word essay that tells the story of how you’ll show your princess power to the world. Here’s how you’ll divide it up (no arguing — this structure is golden):
Section 1 (100 words): The Power of Being a Princess
This is where you explain why every princess (you, obviously) has something amazing to offer the world. Is it your kindness? Your bravery? Your love for kittens and sprinkles? Tell everyone what makes being a princess the ultimate superpower.
Section 2 (200 words): What Sets You Apart
Now it gets personal. Every princess has her own style. Maybe you’re the princess that always helps others. Maybe you’re the one who dreams the wildest, most colorful dreams. Maybe you’re the princess who eats her cheese pizza backward (because crust first is revolutionary). This is your space to tell the world exactly what makes YOU different — and why that deserves serious royal respect.
Section 3 (150 words): Dealing With The Boys
Boys are, well, boys. They’re sometimes loud, sometimes messy, and almost always convinced they know more than you. But guess what? They don’t. Not even close. Tell us how you’ll show them that being a princess isn’t just wearing sparkly shoes (although, sparkly shoes are great) — it’s about strength, brains, and letting them know YOU’RE confidently calling the shots.
Section 4 (50 words): The Grand Finale
That’s right — end with flair. Wrap it all up by reminding the world why you are not just any ordinary princess. You’re a powerhouse. A dreamer. A queen-to-be. And they better believe it.
There you go, my magical grade schoolers — your task awaits. Crown yourself with words, sprinkle in a little sass, and don’t just stop at telling the world you’re a princess. Make them feel it.
Go forth. Rule wisely. Do great. Good luck.
Reference: To All the Boys, Girls, and Anyone Who Thinks I Can’t Be a Princess — Buckle Up.
First of all, being a princess is basically a full-time job—but like, the BEST job. You get to turn everything boring into something magical. A puddle? Royal swimming pool for a frog prince. Cleaning your room? A heroic quest to rescue your tiara from the clutches of the sock monster. When you’re a princess, you’re not just living life, you’re sprinkling glitter all over it. And the best part is the superpowers you get — kindness that can make someone smile faster than a cupcake can, bravery that’s stronger than the time I killed a spider (it was HUGE, okay?), and creativity that turns empty cereal boxes into castles. Like, HELLO. Being a princess isn’t just amazing, it’s unstoppable.
My Princess Style? It’s All Me, Thanks.
Now, every princess is different, and I’m no copy-paste Cinderella. Me? I’m the kind of princess who reads the Bible while wearing nail polish that smells like strawberries. That makes me wise and fashionable, obviously. I tell my big brother Dmitri that Jesus talked about loving your neighbors, which means he HAS to share his fidget spinner with me or he’s basically breaking a commandment. And when I’m not reading about courage and kindness from the Good Book, I’m probably braiding ribbons into my hair or figuring out what shade of pink lip gloss will best match my math homework (spoiler alert: all of them). Oh, and if you’re wondering, YES, I absolutely twirl through the house like I’m auditioning for a sparkly dance movie. You gotta move like you mean it, people!
But the thing that makes me the most princessy of all? I see things other people don’t. Like the way the afternoon light sparkles on the windowsill — it’s basically God sprinkling fairy dust into boring Tuesday afternoons. Or how everyone smiles when they eat cookies fresh from the oven. My superpower is making sure all those magical moments don’t go to waste because someone has to be in charge of joy around here, and that someone is me. You’re welcome, humanity.
Boys. We Need To Talk.
Now, about boys. They think they know everything. Like Dmitri. He doesn’t think I’m a princess because “princesses don’t slurp spaghetti sauce like a sea monster.” (His words, not mine.) And you know what? He’s wrong. Princesses do slurp spaghetti because princesses use their brains to enjoy life, not just to sit still and look pretty. Like, sure, I love sparkly shoes and glitter bows — but I use them while I’m running faster than him on the playground. Princes think they’re in charge, but NEWSFLASH, you guys wouldn’t even know the rules of chess without the QUEEN. Next time Dmitri tells me I can’t do something because “girls don’t do that,” I’m going to laugh like my pink Kool-Aid just came out of my nose and say, “Oh, so you’re scared of my superpower? Because you should be.” See, being a princess is about using your glitter brain to make the world better and more fun. Try catching up, boys.
Time To Rule — Watch Me Shine.
Here’s the thing about being a princess. It’s not just about tiaras (although, yes, duh, tiaras rock). It’s about knowing you’re a queen-in-training and walking like the kingdom’s already yours. You can bet that’s how I’m ruling my world — with lots of love, a little mischief, and just enough pink sparkles to remind everyone who’s boss.
The Royal Tea Party Operation — Code Name: Crown & Crumpets
Ladies, assemble. It’s time to throw the tea party that will prove, once and for all, that you are not merely princesses — you are legendary princesses. And do we ask permission? Of course, because even princesses need a royal decree (aka Dad’s okay) before pulling off an event this fabulous.
Step One: The Permission Pitch
You’re not just asking Dad, you’re presenting The Princess Proposal™. Approach him with regal confidence — tiara tilted just right, hands clasped dramatically — and say, "Father, I humbly request your blessing to host the most royal tea party this kingdom has ever seen." (Pro tip: Add a curtsey for flair.) Promise to clean up the glitter. Even if we both know that glitter never truly dies...
Step Two: The Fab Agenda
Dress Code: Every princess knows that sparkle levels must match her energy. Bust out the tiaras, gowns, and maybe even that sash you made at craft time that one Tuesday. Bonus points for gloves that make everything feel fancy and impossible to handle.
Table of Majesty: Set up your tea table with style. Pink tablecloth? Yes. Lacy napkins? Naturally. A tower of cookies and cupcakes so high it feels like dessert architecture? Mandatory. Use your glitter brain here — whatever screams “royalty” to you.
Tea of Champions: Spoiler alert, our tea is juice. (Unless you’re really into herbal chamomile in a cup that says “Disney Princess.”) Add fancy straws and tiny umbrellas because why sip normally when you can sip epically?
Step Three: The Girl Talk Rules
As you sip like the queens-in-training you are, the topic of conversation is simple yet crucial. How will the world know you’re princesses? Practice royal entrance waves (elbow, wrist, fingers — don’t wing it). Swap tips on commanding attention with just a look. Discuss villain management strategies (spoiler, it’s usually snacks).
Step Four: Seal It with a Royal Decree
When the party’s winding down, appoint a scribe to draft your very own Royal Decree (i.e., a very elaborate piece of paper that says “We’re princesses. Deal with it.”). Sign it in glitter pen for extra legal validity. Hand it to Dad and say, “Make copies for the villagers.”
And there you have it — your tea party of regal proportions. Don’t forget to take a selfie with your teacup raised high, captioned something like, “Spilled tea, claimed the throne. Bow down.”
A Royal Recital (Optional, But Highly Encouraged)
If the princesses currently find themselves on diplomatic terms with the boys of their kingdom (peace treaties signed with glitter pens, naturally), an optional Royal Recital may be in order. This is a chance for princesses to graciously extend their theatrical talents—on the condition that the boys come bearing offerings. The rules are simple enough even for peasants—sorry, boys—to follow:
The Princesses Pick the Performance: Whether it’s a tear-jerking monologue of royal woes (“Why must the tiara always dig into one’s scalp?!"), a stirring political speech (“Equal sticker distribution for all!”), or an interpretive dance to their song, the girls decide the form of the cultural enlightenment they bestow. Boys have no say. Absolutely none.
The Boys Must Cater: Boys must arrive at the recital with tribute in hand—whether it’s cookies, candy, tea, or those random leftover snacks only Dad eats. It’s not a recital without refreshments, and the audience is responsible for keeping their performers fueled. Bonus points for snacks in fancy bowls and tea served in actual cups (or mismatched mugs—they’ll allow it).
Performance Venue: The recital takes place in the kingdom’s grand theater (read: the living room). Move the coffee table, roll out a blanket-red-carpet, and designate Mom as the royal announcer-slash-hype person.
Applause is Non-Negotiable: Boys must clap. A lot. Excessive cheering is encouraged, and if you don’t shed at least one dramatic tear during the princess’s speech, what are you even bringing to the kingdom?
Optional, yes. Unforgettable? Absolutely. Now go rehearse—polite societies don’t form themselves.
The Princess Prayer
(Recite daily, preferably in front of a mirror — tiara optional, but highly recommended.)
“Hear ye, hear ye! Assemble, marvelous me!
Today, I step into the throne room of life — aka, the hallway past the cereal cupboard — ready to sparkle like a glitter explosion and rule like a boss.
I decree that I, [Your Royal Name Here], am not just any girl. Oh no. I am a princess. A queen-in-the-making. The ruler of all things fabulous and slightly chaotic. I possess more magic in my pinky than most kingdoms do in their entire enchanted archives, and that’s just a fact. No contest.
With this morning light, I promise to wield my powers with grace (and possibly snack crumbs). My kindness will stretch wide — like a hug for the world. My bravery will shine bright — like Mom when she squashes spiders without flinching. My imagination will run wild and free, making castles out of couch cushions and heroes of my stuffed animals. And my mischief? Well, it’ll stay just this side of adorable — because what’s a princess without a little rebellion wrapped in charm?
I shall champion the glitterless and uplift the snack-deprived. I will outwit boys who claim “princesses can’t do that” with a sparkle-brained sass attack so sharp, they’ll need a time-out to recover. I’ll share my dreams, but not my french fries, because some things are sacred.
Today, I announce to all puddles, princes, and potted plants that I am a force to be reckoned with. I will twirl like I’m auditioning for the world’s greatest living room dance scene. I will laugh so loud the stars get jealous. I will stomp through this day wearing confidence like a royal cape (and also whatever socks don’t have holes in them).
And when the day is done and the stars peek out for their nightly duties, I’ll wave them a royal goodnight. Why? Because even the sky needs to know who's boss.
Now go forth, Princess Me. Rock that crown, rule with giggles, and make the day unforgettable.
Your kingdom awaits.”