In the beginning, there was Barbie.
She was there for my teething experiences, where I cared more about chewing on Barbie's feet than actually playing with her, and she was there when I realized Paul was not a girl and I couldn't rely on him for much if there was a ball around. She was there when I was grounded and sentenced to my room, which turned out not to be so bad with her around, and during the first signs of puberty when awkwardness overwhelmed me, she was there to remind me what I could be like in the future.
Barbie was my world until I was about 10. I wanted her limitless wardrobe, huge boobs and glossy blonde hair, her big sparkly eyes and perfect smile. She was friendly with everyone, not discriminatory (all ethnicities represented by the mid 90's), wealthy and successful (did you see the Barbie dream house?), and whatever other personality trait you bothered to infuse into her plastic being (see
Barbie Collecting Online for all corresponding options).
She was in essence my idol.
Fortunately, somewhere in my first 10 years of life I made 4 friends who were just as Barbie crazy as I was. Eventually she became a venue where me and those 4 could express ourselves in different situations. We could make her do anything, and if it was unconventional, wrong, or right for that matter, we'd test it out first with her. Afterall, it was Barbie acting out, not us. She was so many things for me over the years, and I miss her for that. In honor of the holidays, I'm grateful my parents introduced me to Barbie at such a young, impressionable age.
Me and the 4 created so many memories with Barbie, it's hard to know where to start.
There were times when we'd stay up all night dressing her up, brushing her hair, and creating the most elaborate story lines that I'm sure we could have rivaled The Bold and The Beautiful in intrigue.
There were the times I ignored playing outside with my friends because I wanted to dress up Barbie instead.
Then, the time I was jealous of my friends because they had more Barbie clothes than I did.
Or, the time when I stole some of those outfits, and when confronted about it, said they had left them over at my house.
The time when I accidentally cut off the hair to my favorite Barbie and then realized it wouldn't grow back. And I cried.
I owned the blonde, of course.
The time I shaved my Barbie's head because I wanted to.
The time we discovered how babies were made and suddenly Barbie and Ken were doing it all day long.
The time when Barbie found herself pregnant with a cotton ball stuck up her skanky dress of the day.
The time when Skipper became the pregnant teenager and her boyfriend, Ken Jr., ran away with her best friend. Prick.
The time when Barbie's red corvette accidentally ran over her best friend because she was jealous of her. I forgot why. Theresa never forgave her.
The time when we spent hours creating our Barbie houses in my room and then decided we were too tired to bother with the storyline.
The time I threw a Barbie at Paul's head because he ate the last of the golden grahams. Prick.
The time Peter stole my favorite Barbie to play a joke on me, and I stole his favorite basketball cards to get him back. Prick + 1/2.
The time when Mermaid Barbie was the best thing that happened to bath time:
Her hair changes color in warm water!
The time when I heard Barbie protesters had made a big enough argument against her so-called "unrealistic image," and Barbie came out of the factories looking more like...me: flat chested, bigger hips, and shorter. I could have cried. My idol as I knew her would never be the same.
The real question is, "Has the 'downsizing' of Barbie helped in preserving little girls' body images?" I'd like to see some statistics. I'm curious if Barbie ever really did anything to anyone's image of themselves. I'm thinking it didn't. And I'm thinking Mattel has made a huge mistake.
I don't know, just a thought.
But I do know this: once Barbie changed, I changed (circa 1996).
Oldest Barbie (1989) I still have tucked away for my future little girl, with outfit (feet still in tact).
The first Ken doll I ever owned (the one in the middle), also tucked away for safe keeping. Complete with outfit, which will go down in history as possibly worst Ken doll clothing ever.
PS. Ken's abs also took a turn for the worse when Barbie lost her boobs.
Perfect song for this post? You guessed it.
