Frumpy Mom: It’s my chance to play Cinderella

When I was a girl, I saw an animated Disney movie called “Cinderella.”  Most of you probably remember the story.

For those of you who’ve been living in a tree, or raised in a household where such things were considered Satanic, “Cinderella” as presented by Walt Disney in 1950 was a beautiful young woman who was treated as a lowly drudge by her cruel stepmother and stepsisters.

This tale was based on numerous similar plots as far back as Ancient Greece and China, but most closely on European folk tales.

In the Disney version, she’s shown doing fun activities such as scrubbing the floor. She hears her sisters talk about wanting to meet the prince at the upcoming Royal Ball, which it goes without saying she won’t be attending.

But. Wait. There’s more. She ends up with a fairy godmother who waves her wand, sings “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo,” and magically endows her with a gorgeous ballgown, hairstyle and coach, just ready to go to the Royal Ball.

I don’t even have to tell you this, right? But it’s a fairy tale. Nothing like that could ever happen in real life.

Well, at the tender age of 69, I’ve decided that maybe it can. Sadly, I don’t have a fairy godmother, so I have to buy my own ball gown, which is so wrong in so many ways.

But I’m going to buy that darn gown and wear it to a ball in the beautiful city of Vienna this coming January. For real.

The ball lasts from 9 p.m. to 4:30 a.m. so I won’t be wearing any glass slippers.  And I also doubt I’ll make it to 4:30 a.m. but you never know. They will be brewing a lot of coffee there, after all.

Here’s what happened: I stumbled upon a super cheap airfare to Vienna. If you read me regularly, you know I’d probably go to that hot place down below if the airfare was cheap enough. My first thought was to go to the famous Christmas markets there because I’ve never been.

But while I was reading about them, I came across an article that described the 450 annual balls every winter in Vienna, and how you could go to one just by buying a ticket. I remembered watching a cheesy Hallmark movie involving a Viennese ball and it looked magical, so this caught my attention.

Luckily, my friends are accustomed to my suggestions for bizarro things to do, so no one burst out laughing when I suggested we fly to Vienna to attend a ball. And my friend Lori — a wonderful human being in every way — immediately gave the prize-winning response.

“Of course I want to go to a ball in Vienna with you.”

So, yup, we’re going to the capital of Austria for a week in January, where I’m sure it will be bathing suit weather, right? Actually, I went to Vienna once 40 years ago, in fact that’s where I saw my first opera. I loved the city and its people and always meant to go back.

Neither of us has any money, so we bought the cheap airfare using credit card points, and Lori is using hotel points to get us a free place to stay (She travels a lot on business.) The tickets for the “Coffee Brewers Ball” at the Hofburg Imperial Palace, cost 210 Euros. So that wasn’t cheap, but for a once-in-a-lifetime experience, worth it. (I know the ball sounds cheesy, but it’s one of the fanciest ones each year, I’ve been promised.)

We’re going to the downtown L.A. garment district next weekend to start hunting for ball gowns. I want to drag this process out as long as possible. I mean, how many times in your life do you shop for a ball gown? Unless you’re married to a billionaire, probably never. We could rent one when we get there, but it costs 177 Euros, and I know I can get a cheaper dress than that.

Luckily, the taxis in Vienna don’t turn into pumpkins at midnight like in the Disney Cinderella story, and I doubt any princes will show up at the ball. Sadly, I won’t have a gentleman escort in white tie and tails to waltz with, but the ball takes over the entire palace, so there are also rooms with disco and rock music, where Lori and I can dance together more easily.

I just got confirmation that our super cheap nosebleed tickets to see “The Marriage of Figaro” by Mozart were also confirmed, so I’ll be going back to the stunning Vienna opera house, where I stood at the top to see my first opera.

I don’t speak a word of German except what I learned on “Hogan’s Heroes,” and there probably won’t be much call for me to say “Yawohl, Herr Kommandant,” so this should be interesting. I’ll keep you posted on the rest.