Is it possible to be... too fabulous?  A question you have doubtless pondered.  When the paparazzi are everywhere, and even the simplest purchase you make is watched by trend hunters, you find yourself wistfully reminiscing about your more elemental past.  There was once a time when people were interested in you as a person, instead of you as a phenomenon or a business opportunity.  You could walk down the street without being pointed at, or camera phoned.  It was possible for you to be rejected, or ignored, or even overlooked.

You had friends, instead of just an audience.  Your words were spontaneous, not scripted and practiced.  You could succeed without fanfare, or fail quietly.  Your faults weren’t magnified to grotesque size and displayed eternally for your viewing pleasure.

If only.

If only you hadn’t kissed that damn frog.

Without a doubt, it was fun at first.  To suddenly be aware of so many things, and of vastly greater potential in the world.  Being tall.  Really tall.  Not like at the top of a jump, or looking down from a rock, but suddenly your eyes were nearly 6 feet off the ground.

Your back hurt, of course, and your legs were oddly shaped.  Your hands didn’t even reach the ground.  And the thumbs!  For the first time they were more than just things to spread out your webbing with.

She was there.  She was smiling at you.  That felt good, but also weird.  Why was she so happy?  And what was with the fabric all over your body?

So she kissed you again, and of course that felt good.  Your arms seemed to reach for her of their own accord.  It was easy, and inevitable.

When everyone treated you like royalty, you quickly got used to it.  But with time, your crown grew tarnished and heavy.  You were responsible for so much and so many others besides yourself.  You had to behave in just the right way, and always look presentable.  You couldn’t just dangle your toes in the mud and poke only your eyes and nose up through the duckweed.

She loved you, and that was fine.  But you weren’t bred to be in love with anyone.  And when the kids arrived, they were a total mystery.  You were expected to be a parent, and to treat them in a special way.  You didn’t get it.

So now here you sit, gazing into the pond in the royal garden.  A fly buzzes past, and for a split second you forget your tongue is only good for speech.  The sun is hot, and you wish, just wish, you could ditch the clothes, and the cares, and the crown.  The mud looks so inviting.