My favorite fairy has been discon-tink-ued.
People who know me IRL understand that it is “all Tink all the time” in my world. From the time I was a baby, my parents called me TinkerBell. For years, I thought it was sweet and cute. As I got older and read the original play by J.M Barrie, I questioned that characterization. TinkerBell is not always a very nice fairy. Still- good, bad, and ugly- TinkerBell has always been my alter ego. I have endless pictures of myself with TinkerBell. I have a TinkerBell wardrobe that is the envy of four-year-old girls everywhere. Some of you may even recall that I visited the “Bippity Boppity Boutique for grown-ups” a few years back to get Tinkifying makeover. I have an adorable lime green car that I call the “Tinkmobile.”
I also have a lovely little Chase VISA card that earns Disney reward points that I save up each year to pay towards our annual passes. The uber-adorable thing about this credit card is that TinkerBell’s picture is on the front of it. Every time I pull out my credit card, I get a green glimpse of the perky pixie princess. It reminds me that there is a TinkerBell persona living inside of me. Surely, despite my frumpy elderly exterior, there is a feisty, flirty, flittery, fun fairy bursting to get out.
Tragedy struck. Somehow, my Tinker card got compromised and I started getting charged $25 per month for some weird horoscope type service. I contacted Chase to report a fraud and dispute the charges. They agreed to reverse the charges, freeze my account, and send me a new card with a new account number. When the new card arrived, it sported Cinderella’s castle and not TinkerBell. I called the bank, thinking it was an error. There are several designs a cardholder can choose for the card, so I figured the person issuing the new card just accepted the default instead of specifying my TinkerBell choice.
Sadly, this was not the case. The lady on the phone confidently said she could help me get a card with the correct design. As she scrolled the options, however, she realized that TinkerBell HAD BEEN DISCONTINUED! I cannot begin to express the dismay I felt. It was as if I had lost my identity.
Ever since that conversation, I have been trying to fill the TinkerBell-credit-card-sized hole in my heart. I have barely worn anything other than Tink-themed clothing. I managed to wear appropriate church apparel to the Sunday service. Before I returned to the church that evening to lead the young adult study group session, however, I changed into my custom-painted TinkerBell and Periwinkle (Tink’s fraternal twin, for those of you who are not up on your pixie lore) sweatshirt that boasts that “I am the third sister.”
It still isn’t working. I am feeling unmoored by this turn of events. The bank advised me to destroy the old card. I have not been able to bring myself to comply; I doubt I ever will. Grinding TinkerBell through the shredder is not on my bingo card.
I am in mourning. Max immediately started googling to find some sort of replacement product to ease my pain. The best he could find was a new floral TinkerBell spirit jersey. One could argue that while a Tink-design credit card and yet another article of pixie clothing are both nice but not exactly interchangeable. I don’t care. If my Tink credit card was my heroin, the new spirit jersey might at least function as my methadone.
We are going to Disney Springs today to buy the jersey- lest the delirium tremors begin!
