Esther's unreliable how-to guide for being a heroine

There are days when you just get up in the morning, run out the door with a half-eaten fistful of toast crumpled in your hand, morning breath, messy hair, an oily pimple on your already plain-looking face, and classes drag on in meh-fashion for several hours. And then the next day, the vicious cycle goes on. And on. And on. And just when you think life can’t get more blahtastic, your computer breaks down and can’t be fixed for a week. Thus, no Interwebz for a week.

Let me repeat: no Internet for one whole brain-meltingly boring week.

Gaah! It’s at times like this that you want to jump into one of your favorite literature novels and turn into an epic heroine from several centuries ago, complete with completely zit-free beauty (that sounds like a line from a makeup company), irresistible charm, a virtue that can never go wrong, dresses that the pickiest Pops (popular girls in cliques – you know the kind) would die with envy for, classy language even when you’re blowing your top, and a happily-ever-after marriage with Hot Prince What’s-His-Name.

So, here are some quick tips for girls wanting to be heroines! I have to tell you quickly, though—sometimes, being a heroine isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

1.    A BAAAAAAD guardian

If you have a father, he’s usually seriously addicted to locking people up. If you don’t know where your father is, he’s still alive, he just abandoned you. If your father was actually nice, he dies really, really fast (sorry about that). Mothers are usually dead or die pretty quickly in the story. Any stepmothers or cruel aunts that are left lurve, lawve, and loam (er, yeah, that word isn’t applicable here, but whatever) forcing you to marry the rich nose-picking creep who you hate more than anybody else in the world. But you NEVER throw temper tantrums when you’re a heroine. No cell phone-throwing or door-slamming or feet-stomping or “I hate you and I wish you would flip your lips over your head!” here. You always have to get down on your knees, embrace your stepmom, and weep, “O my sweet, dear, gentle, good, kind, lovely, ever-honored mamma! Forgive thy unhappy child!” (A pocket thesaurus is pretty useful in cases like these. It’s also good to memorize a few fancy poems.)

2.    Have a BF.

All heroines have a best friend/maid who’s significantly less cool than the heroine herself. It’s, like, a universal rule. Lizzy Bennet had Charlotte Lucas. Cecilia Beverly had Henrietta Belfield. Clarissa Harlowe had Anna Howe. Sophia Western had Honour, the weird maid with the meaty hands. Anyway, you have to have a BF who isn’t particularly helpful in any way just to show how nice and friendly and good you are, and also for everyone to compare how much prettier you are than your BF. And that leads to point three…

3.    Be pretty.

If you don't have any beauty, you won’t be able to go very far. Now, before you start bursting into tears of Bella Swan-style despair, listen. And put that crate of e-tomatoes down. Please. Now, first of all, remember you aren't a normal person. For normal people IRL, as Auntie Sparknotes beautifully proved, the power of pretty is pretty fail. YOU, my friend, are a heroine. Live with it. The world of fantasy is where glittery vampires have a certain number of special chromosomes, three-headed puppies like lullabies, and people with the name "Fitzwilliam" can be attractive. K? K! And secondly, this is the thing – most people are actually prettier than they think they are. Just as long as you have some confidence pants and a good narrator, even a deformity can be made charming. Compare:

-IRL: Ugh. My nose is so totally off-center. My hair is frizzing down my fat shoulders messily from running in the wind and my cheeks are chapped and red as a clown’s. My eyes are boring plain brown and they suck. I don’t have any makeup on. I HATE MYSELF FOREVER AGH WHY AM I DESCRIBING MYSELF.

-If you’re a heroine: My beautiful, warm, vivacious brown eyes glowed with the loveliness of a rainbow crammed down the throat of a unicorn. My nose’s slight irregularity took cold Judgment by surprise with its exquisitely piquant charm and uniqueness. My glossy tresses flowed down my shapely shoulders; the freshness in my cheeks had the bloom of youth breathed upon it by the gentle zephyr of the sweet wind. I never paint myself, so my appearance exactly suited that of making ‘sweet neglect more taketh’ than ‘all the adulteries of art, which capture the eyes, but not the heart’.

And if nothing I say works? Well…there’s always the option of slapping on a Phantom of Opera mask and hoping people will think your mysteriousness is enchanting. If you can't be a heroine, phantoms are still pretty cool.