Every girl’s dream, in my opinion, is to live the fairy tale life of Princess Ariel, The Little Mermaid. And I found proof on the beach one morning as I walked along the shoreline. Three young girls, around the age of eleven, were dipping their painted toes into the salty sea waves. One girl had long blonde hair the color of corn silk and wore a yellow bikini. Another had wavy auburn hair, the rosy shade of the sky moments before sunset. Her two-piece halter was the shade of violet flowers. The third girl could have been mistaken for an islander with dark waist-length hair. One strand was tucked neatly behind her ear, held in place by a white plumeria blossom. She giggled as she handed the redhead what appeared to be a sleek and luxurious green finned mermaid tail. When the Ariel-like preteen wiggled her tiny hips into the waterproof snug-fitting sheath, I heard an exclamation, “Careful, don’t tear it”, as two pairs of hands automatically offered balance. While hobbling on one foot in the monofin, with a final tug she pulled it over her hips and snapped the elastic waist into place. Admittedly, the image was a striking transformation. She had the realistic appearance of a live mermaid. Unable to take a step, a voice above the surf commanded, “Just lay down and roll into the surf!” With the grace of a princess, she plunged into the sea and began to propel through the water like a mythical creature. It must have taken a bit of practice to become surprisingly buoyant with natural swimming movements. Or perhaps she was a mermaid in everyday life.