The Girl and The Chocolate Pig

There once was a little girl. She wore a perfect pink dress with a perfect pink bow in her perfectly curled hair. She lived with her perfect family in a perfect home and loved her perfect life.

On her 8th birthday she had the most amazing party. There were pony rides, a magician, cake and balloons. All of the little girls wore their best dresses and bows. But of course, hers was the most beautiful of all.

This is where the story gets a bit foggy for me. I know there’s something about a little girl at the party that had a plain dress and no bow. Prompted by a Veruca Salt-style tantrum, the “plain dress” girl selflessly hands over a chocolate pig to the wailing “perfect” girl. The moral??? Something about don’t be a brat or be careful what you wish for because you might get chocolate all over your perfect pink dress.

Hmmm… that doesn’t feel quite right. Of course, after years of retelling and reshaping who’s to say? This is one of many stories handed down through the generations in my family. First told by my grandfather to my mom and aunt when they were little, the tales were then shared with us. A Methodist Preacher, my grandfather was known to deliver powerful sermons to his congregation and provide guidance and counseling to many. Knowing it’s origins, I have to believe that “The Girl and the Chocolate Pig” must hold some larger truth other than “Don’t be a brat.”

Determined to get it right, I quickly fired off a FaceBook message to my sister. Maybe she’ll remember the details.

Jen Hoffman:   Hey. Do you remember that story about the chocolate pig? I’ve got dresses and chocolate and that’s about it.

Kara Davis:    Holy crap... I’d have to really think to come up with the chocolate pig story! LOL Something about a girl in a pink dress and she ate the whole chocolate pig. But I have no idea what the lesson learned was. :-) 

Jen Hoffman: Uh, OK. Thanks??? That was no help. LOL.

Time for Plan B. I tried to get Mom on the phone without success. So I gave my Aunt Jeannie a ring.

Aunt Jeannie: “Hello?” 

Me: “Hey it’s me.” 

Aunt Jeannie: “Oh hi! I’m at your mother’s. Wanna say hi?” 

Me: Laughing “Oh my God I just tried to call her. But while I have you, I’m trying to remember the ‘Girl and the Chocolate Pig’ story. Kara was no help."

Aunt Jeannie: Laughing. “OK I’ll give it a try. You ready? Your mother can listen to make sure I get it right.”

 Aunt Jeannie's Story

There was a little girl who was very poor.  She was invited to a birthday party by a very rich girl. The poor girl didn’t have a big fancy dress to wear. So her mother tried to make her a dress, but it wasn’t fancy. Her mother combed her hair nice and neat and sent her to the party, in a big fancy house.

When it was time for cake and ice cream the kids sat down at the table. They were given ice cream in the shape of animals. There was a white sheep, a strawberry cow and a chocolate pig.  The rich girl got the white sheep and the poor girl got the chocolate pig. The rich girl yelled, “I want the chocolate pig! I want the chocolate pig!”  And the poor girl said she would give her the chocolate pig. 

The moral of the story is "pretty is as pretty does."

Me: “Wow. OK I guess I was way off. The part I remembered was when the rich girl got chocolate on her dress.”

Aunt Jeannie: “Hey Bet! Did the rich girl get chocolate on her dress? She doesn’t remember that part.”

Me: “Alright well thanks anyway. I have to go pick up the kids from school. Tell mom I’ll call her tomorrow.” 

Aunt Jeannie: “OK Bye honey!”

Clearly each of us seemed to have taken what we wanted from the story and left the rest.  My sister’s version seemed a product of life as a younger sibling whose big sister took everything and left nothing for her (I have no idea where she got that.) For Aunt Jeannie, the story is straight forward and matter of fact. The poor, plain girl was beautiful on the inside, even if she wasn’t on the outside.  And I’m still left with an unexplained, chocolate stained dress. I needed Mom’s version if I was to get to the bottom of this.  So the next day, I gave her a ring. And here’s what she said.

Mom’s Story

Alright, so… Once upon a time there was a little girl who was not very rich. In fact, her family was quite poor. But her mother tried very hard to make things as nice as possible for her. So even though she didn’t have fancy clothes, they were always clean and ironed.  And she was very happy with her family at home.

One day she got invited to a birthday party. The party was for a rich little girl who had beautiful clothes and lived in a big house. The poor girl said to her mother, “Oh what should I wear! I don’t have a beautiful dress.” And her mother said, “That’s alright, I’ll wash and iron your nicest dress and you’ll look fine honey.”

So she went to the party in her plain, but clean, little dress.

The children had a good time at the party until it was time for ice cream. They sat down at the table, the birthday girl sat at the head. She wore the most beautiful, pink, ruffled party dress that you’ve ever seen. She had long, curly hair and looked just beautiful. The birthday girl’s mom had made ice cream treats in the shape of animals.  There were strawberry chickens, vanilla kitty cats and chocolate pigs.

Mom finished the rest of the story the same as Aunt Jeannie, citing the same moral, “pretty is as pretty does.”  But after further discussions with Mom, some noticeable differences became clear.

Me:  “It sounds like you and Jeannie got the moral the same.  But Jeannie didn’t go into any detail describing the differences between the dresses. You talked a lot about the poor girl’s plain but clean, ironed dress and the rich girl’s beautiful, frilly, pink dress.  I was such a messy kid. I must have created the ruined dress part myself. You know, kind of an Aesop’s Fable kind of thing?”

Mom:  Laughing “Well you know, my father always told us that story when we got dressed up to go anywhere as a family. It was all about, ‘You look beautiful, but you have to act nice too. It’s not just about how you look.’ So that was the moral of the story for me.”

You would think that with all of this information I should be able to finally piece this story together. But the details haven’t quite come into focus. I’m not sure they ever will with so many versions floating around.  As a girl, the feelings I had about the poor girl and her place in the story stood out the most.  It went something like this.

My Story

Back in my childhood bedroom, I’m warm and snug. I’m lulled by my mother’s soft whispery voice, doused in empathy and importance. I feel deeply sad for the poor girl, knowing she is scared to go to the party. But I also know that she’s happy to have been invited. Filled with the shame of her plain dress and the guilt of knowing how hard her mother worked to make it look presentable, she musters up the strength to go to the party.

As the rich girl screeched and squealed about wanting the chocolate pig, the poor girl shrank with embarrassment. The whole table stared in her direction as the poor girl meekly offered the chocolate pig. She didn’t really care what flavor or shape the ice cream was. She loved ice cream and was thrilled to have any one of the tasty treats. So giving up the pig, while coveted by the rich girl, was easy for her. And she knew the offering would give her back the peace and anonymity she so desperately desired.

The adults at the party would see the poor girl as a sweet child who didn’t care about material possessions. But her true character is revealed, as this version of the story ends with a chocolate smeared pink dress. “Not so perfect any more is it?”

I was always jealous of the girls who knew who they were.  They fell easily into typical girl roles. They braided each other’s hair, played with Barbie’s shopping mall and married her off to Ken. I was determined to run with the neighborhood boys and torture my mother with proclamations like, “I’m going to wear jeans to my wedding.”  Then in the evenings, I’d sob in my mother’s arms, “How will I know who I am supposed to marry? How will I find him?”  I was a hot mess. I bumbled along, letting myself be pulled in any direction that grabbed me. I wished I knew which way I wanted to go.  And that if I ever did figure it out, I’d have the courage to say it out loud and proudly march after my dreams. 

Just like the perfect girl, who knew she wanted the chocolate pig. She wasn’t ashamed to fight for it, no matter what anyone thought of her. Guaranteed that girl is now running a multimillion-dollar worldwide conglomerate and traveling the world sipping champagne on her yacht.  Looking back, that chocolate smeared dress was my way of expressing feelings of jealousy towards all those “perfect” girls. 

Despite retelling the same story over and over, each of us seem to have created our own versions based on who we are. Or who we were at the time. My sister’s confidence and contentment in her life highlighted by barely being able to resurrect the tale from the depths of her childhood memory. Aunt Jeannie’s straightforward, matter of fact, “Let’s get down to business” attitude shined bright in her no frills version.  And mom’s details about the loved and happy poor girl revealed her sympathetic, nurturing nature and her belief that the girl was proud of who she was, despite her lack of riches.

It’s taken me a while to embrace who I am and to have the courage to lay it out for the world to see. Looking back I realize that mom’s message, “Be proud of who you are no matter what others think of you,” stayed with me through the years. I’d internalized it and carried with me without really knowing it. But it would kick in just when I needed it. Like when I would go for the jobs I was under qualified to hold on paper, but knew in my heart I could do. Or when I taught my first group fitness class and was convinced I’d screw it up. As the doubt crept up, mom’s mantra would run through my head, squashing it back down. “Just be yourself. Just be yourself.” It allowed me tap into the parts of those experiences I loved and focus on enjoying the ride. And yes, mistakes were made. But I learned from them, grew and continued on. And in the end, isn’t that what life’s all about?

I’ve since edited my childhood version of the story. And the one I will tell my boys will sound something like this.

My New Story

The poor girl goes to the party with her plain dress and is happy to be invited. She’s happy to give up her ice cream without incident and feels sorry for the rich girl who is clearly unhappy and distressed no matter what anyone does for her. She sits back, enjoys her treat, and barely notices the chocolate smeared dress drama as her mom picks her up and takes her home where she is loved, nurtured and inspired to go for what she wants in life. Rich or poor, strawberry or chocolate, chicken or pig, this girl knows who she is and where she wants to go.

Happy Birthday Mom.  My gift to you is to share “The Girl and The Chocolate Pig” with the world. I am so grateful for your love, guidance and support through the years.  Thank you for inspiring me to reach for my dreams. 

I love you.

Jen