Barbie

Did you play with Barbies as a child? I had a few. I survived. I don't remember much about playing with them other than feeling jealous that my cousin owned more than me and that I liked their hair. My maternal eyes, however, view them as really horrible toys. Call me crazy granny, but I much prefer some blocks and an etch- a- sketch to a plastic porn star. (see above). Recently, while washing my hair, I was staring at her (she was hanging out of the toy net on the shower wall) and hating on her and her big perky breasts, while I washed the crusty milk off my own. I yelled for the husband, and asked him if Barbie turned him on when he was washing his hair. He said, No. (good answer). And then I continued hating her and wondering about the cost of a boob lift.

I never planned on the Barbie craze because I found them so ridiculous. I figured if my girl likes to play with dolls with Barbie-ish hair, a My Little Pony would suffice. And then the relatives did it... A nice sparkly Barbie and her posse all wrapped up under the tree. And my daughter loves her Barbies. Mostly, she takes their clothes off and turns them into Mermaids and gives them car rides and hair cuts. (See above) And, I still hate them. I have asked myself if I am cowardly buying into the whole sexualization of little ones and should go ahead and buy her stilettos and a bikini to seal the deal. I didn't buy the bikini (and won't) but I did consider letting Shelf Elf make a special trip from the Pole to steal all the Barbies. I didn't do that either. Instead, I just continued ranting to God and other mothers about it. Then I did this:

I asked her what she noticed about each of them. Mostly, she commented on their coloring or their cozy squishy-ness. Reportedly, Barbie even looks like her good friend (who is a snaggle tooth, chubby cheeked, round, precious 7 year old). Then I commented that none of them really looked like real people. My daughter agreed then resumed her play in the yard. And, I swallowed my pride and resumed cleaning my house.

I still believe childhood ought to be protected from certain toys and media images (and my children's are). Barbie, for now, is not amongst the villains. She's taking her sexy seat next to Egg head, Pinkpurple, Dora, Heavy baby, and an innocent game of Old Maid. And I'll direct my neurosis elsewhere, while I covet her perky breasts.