this post was submitted on 08 May 2026
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The original fairytale involves even more self harm: when the prince is getting women to try on the slipper one of the stepsisters, on the advice of her mother, cuts off her heels to make her foot fit, having been told when she’s married to a prince she won’t have to worry about walking. But the birds call out to him and make him notice the blood seeping out of the shoes as they head back towards the castle. I think the other sister cut off her toes or something and the same thing happens before Cinderella is found.
The original story involved fur slippers, not glass ones, which is why he didn’t see their horribly mutilated feet immediately. Also fur slippers may or may not be a euphemism for hairy pussy.
Actually it is not fur but glass indeed. The idea that it was fur was thought out by some modern(ish) french authors who thought they understand the meaning of the tale better than anyone but ancien versions of the tale do mention a glass shoe. A shoe made in a precious, fragile and impratical material showing the magic infuse in the setup.
I think I mentally blocked the memory of the original story as the image of a woman with a thoroughly mutilated foot horrifically stuffed into, essentially, a traveling display case makes me deeply uncomfortable.
However, now learning that it was an opaque fur slipper, it somehow makes me less uncomfortable. I don’t know what any of this says about me
May I offer instead to replace it with the new discomfort of contemplating Cinderella standing in furry, wet, squishy shoes filled with her stepsisters’ blood? 😇
That’s really not that bad. Gross? Absolutely. But I can tolerate gross sensations. The grossest of which you didn’t hit on. The sharp, pebbly prickling in the heel and toe. I don’t imagine the stepsisters were particularly adept surgeons. They would almost assuredly leave some fragments of bone embedded within the slipper’s soft lining.
Which, even more horrifically, makes me realize that this did not take place in modern times and these women split open their feet to invite pathogens from literally hundreds, if not thousands of other women inside themselves. If I remember correctly, they were blinded, weren’t they? That feels almost merciful. They didn’t have to watch their legs percolate and putrefy in pre-antibiotic Europe.