"I bet you've got hairy pits, dog." "You obviously need a good root." "She must be a lezzo."
You may be wondering what the woman on the receiving end of those barbs, published in the comments section of online news stories, did to deserve such classy criticism.
Well, that woman was me, and what I did was dare to publicly admit I wasn't a fan of "princess stuff" for my daughter.
Before you assume I am an under-sexed lesbian with unshaven armpits (not that there's anything wrong with that), let me begin by stating none of that should matter.
Once, my house was full of pink princess paraphernalia that has since morphed into Delta Goodrem posters and a wide array of bejewelled denim.
But when my daughter was born eight years ago, I made a decision not to buy her princess stuff, because everyone else was smothering her in it.
Before she could even open her eyes, the world was telling her, in no uncertain terms: "You will be prissy, for you are girl."
Princesses were inescapable.
There were princesses on her clothes, princesses on her nappies, princesses on packaged baby food, princesses on all manner of toys… and the books. Oh, the books.
When my daughter was just a few months old, we ventured into a country town department store. We perused the children's book section, divided into separate areas for girls and boys.
In the girls' section were 50 books for sale, and 45 were about princesses. The other five were about fairies.
That was the moment I decided to write my own children's books; about girls who like art and sport and video games and science experiments. Girls who didn't put prettiness first. Girls who didn't need, or want, rescuing.
When media ran articles about my books, the comments online were frustrating.
Most appeared to come from people who had only read the headlines (one tabloid claimed I was trying to "kill" princesses) and people assumed I was a crunchy, no-gender parent who named my kid "X" and dressed it in a beige potato sack.
The truth was, I never banned princesses, I just didn't embrace them and all of their flammable, plastic-craptastic merchandise.
And I didn't condemn people who did welcome them into their homes. People like Brisbane mother-of-two Renee Wilson.
The pro-princess mum
Renee Wilson is mum to seven-year-old Ava and five-year-old Isla. Isla doesn't mind princesses (but prefers playing outside), while Ava was obsessed with them during her pre-school years.
"I think when you go into the shopping centres, everything is 'Disney princess', and that's when the obsession started," Renee says.
"We bought one princess costume and the next thing you know we have a cupboard full of princess costumes, and she would rotate every day. She wouldn't wear any normal clothes. She wore tiaras and had the magic wand, the whole thing.
"She's a real girly girl who likes glitter, sparkles and magic. She also likes that princesses are kind and friendly and gentle, and that is very much her personality."
Renee never set out to be a "pro-princess" mum, but rather a "pro-choice" mum.
"As a child and, now looking back as an adult, I feel like my parents were very over-protective and made a lot of decisions for me. I made a conscious decision not to be like that with my children," she says.
"My husband and I felt that as long as we opened Ava's world up to lots of different things and gave her choice, we didn't really mind princesses."
She says while there were aspects of princesses she wasn't keen on, modern-day creations were a lot more admirable than those of the past.
"Having to be rescued by a man, I'm not keen on that, and some princesses are seen as weak and vulnerable," Renee says.
"But Ava was really into Tangled, and Frozen. She would like them more than Cinderella, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, where it is all about love and being rescued by a man."
But the Wilson household isn't totally free-range. Renee draws the line at anything that encourages a "mean girl" mentality.
"I don't like Barbie Life and the Dreamhouse. It's all very American, very fake and focused on the clothes they wear, hair and make-up, and a bit of mean girls stuff," she says.
"If there's anything that concerns me or isn't age appropriate, I'll shut it down."
The verdict
People with opposing views are often united by the same values at their core.
When it came to princess mania, Renee and I were both motivated by choice.
I thought the wider world was offering nothing but princesses to my daughter, so I deliberately steered clear of them and created an alternative.
Renee gave her girls a range of options, and when one fell in love with princesses, she nurtured that passion by filling the cupboard with costumes.
Fast-forward a few years and neither of our daughters are interested in princesses anymore… and we've all lived happily ever after (boom tish).
Samantha Turnbull is a journalist, children's writer and mum-of-two. In this series she writes about grappling with parenting choices, alongside another parent who has chosen a different path.