My parents think I should be a doctor when I grow up. I’m too ashamed to tell them the truth: that after years of learning, my dream job has little to do with knowledge or degrees.

I want to be a princess.

Not the kind who lives in England or Denmark and has real-life responsibilities. Since I was little, I’ve wanted to be the Disney kind of princess. The ones who burst out into song and wear pretty dresses and live happily ever after. Like Jasmine or Belle. Even Anastasia works, as long as you rule out the creepy half-dead wizard and losing her throne.

The closest I got to princessdom was Halloween when I was five. After I begged a bit, my mom relented and bought me a Cinderella costume. The wand, the dress and even a little tiara.

Too bad it was cold that October. My Cinderella joy lasted all of five minutes before I decided that my brother’s fuzzy Eeyore costume looked a lot more comfortable.

I’ve tried to be a princess since then, but things always get in the way. I had to scrap my plan to run through a field of flowers singing when I found out that spring also means pollen (hello sneezes). Cleaning has never been my forté either. And since I can’t whistle, it makes for a difficult “whistle while you work” experience. Snow White would be dismayed.

I can’t get the woodland friends either. The only creatures in Los Altos are squirrels, and when our only interactions involve them eating my tomatoes, it’s hard to get chummy.

I even tried to get my friends to trick-or-treat as princesses before Homecoming this year. It seemed simple enough. Get dresses. Get crowns. Get candy. Fulfill Shefali’s childhood dreams along the way.

Somehow that plan didn’t work out either. And that’s not to say we didn’t have a good time. A couple of hours devoted to Mario Kart and Halloween Funfetti—no matter how unprincessy they may be— definitely have their charms.

After all my failed attempts, it would be easy to just drop my princess fantasy. I’m 17. I have no royal ancestry. And I don’t have any fairy godmothers to help me out.

But I think the most important element of being a princess is pretty real: the happily-ever-after, the real reason anyone would want to live in a Disney movie. I know I don’t have to outgrow that yet, because I’m young enough that it could still be on the way. Maybe if it isn’t happily-ever-after right now, it just isn’t over yet.

Besides, I still have next Halloween. And maybe someday the squirrels will abandon my tomatoes and befriend me. Maybe.