Every girl dreams that one day a real prince (an athlete, a handsome man, a public favorite) will come into her measured life, who has everything: fame, a white horse and even a crown shining so brightly that you want to close your eyes. Actually, I’m not the kind of girl that guys line up for, so when a prince appeared in my life and started courting me, I was kind of confused. For his sake, I changed, began to take care of myself, changed my comfortable sneakers to stilettos, and my jeans to a short skirt. Only my friends for some reason didn’t appreciate it, and I don’t feel like the former proud bird Falcon, but some kind of stupid chicken. Maybe this will go away with time? Or is this a sign that we need to return the old Yaroslav?