Once upon a time there was a princess who read too many fairy tale stories at too young an age. Nobody ever went back and clued her into the reality of life, so she went on half-believing that these story lines were, in some senses, possible. She played a different fairy tale princess every single Halloween, even when some of the other girls started playing whory-looking French maids. She lived for formal dances and when prom came round, man, she lit up the room.
She believed that one day when she got married, she too would live happily ever after with her handsome prince on the white steed. She planned that wedding for 20 years.
Then she got married (in a Disney wedding dress, of course.)
Now, since nobody went back and "clarified" the "Happily Ever After" part, and since the stories she cherished did not continue into the "Happily Ever After" period, she was under the impression that Happily Ever After happens naturally - it's a byproduct of her sheer specialness and the specialness and perfection of her handsome prince. There is nothing to be done now. It will all be wonderful and perfect.
She was rudely awakened.
"What the fuck is this guy poker night every fucking Thursday?" she screamed. "What is this family politics bullshit? Why do I have to balance 173 things at once? What is this kid's spit-up doing on my new linen pants? What's this no sex thing? Why can't I get a decent night's sleep? And would you stop fucking snoring or I'm going to unleash an African hissing roach on your fucking face, asshole."
The unfortunate thing about it is that Happily Ever After is actually attainable, it just bears no resemblance whatsoever to the magical world that Ariel lives in. Nobody ever helped her understand exactly the kind of work that goes into making that level of happiness happen. Everyone just let her walk around with these rather corrosive and inflexible perceptions of what life would be like, you know, ever after. Her Mom, her favorite aunt, her Grandmother, her not-so-fairy godmother - they all totally dropped the ball.
She died young during a routine plastic surgery procedure to gear up for her fourth marriage to a Texas oil baron.