I overheard two young gentlemen at the counter, "what is with all the BARBIE hype this summer?"
I laughed and thought to myself, they don't have sisters.
I was a lover of BARBIES. And everyone I knew was too.
I do not remember exactly how old I was when I discovered the magic of Barbie, but I am guessing second grade.
I had a Barbie, Talking Barbie, Cousin Stacy from England who also talked, Skipper, Ken and several other Barbies over the years.
During summer vacation, we sat on the concrete slab of our front porch and played Barbies for hours. The front porch was for Barbies and the back porch was for Tonkas.
Girls would arrive mid-morning, after chores were done and we gathered our BARBIE cases and opened them, and the day began.
It was on the that cool, summer concrete slab that my grandmother said to us, "girls you are going to get hemorrhoids from sitting on that cool concrete all the time". I have been worried about that most of my life that my Barbie obsession would come back to bite me with hemorrhoids.
Somedays, when we had several girls, we would break out the chalk and draw parking spaces for our Barbie cars and Ken cars. We thought we were Pinterest worthy with that creative spark.
Every day, the porch was full of girls and their Barbies. We spent most of the day dressing Barbie and never being able to get or keep her shoes on. Ken would come over and they would kiss and then we would stick Kleenex up Barbies dress because she was having a baby. Daily. Barbie delivered a child daily. Ken was the world's biggest sperm donor.
My grandmother sewed. She sewed everything. I did not get store bought Barbie clothes. "I can make it", said my grandmother and she did.
I remember going to Troutman's and picking out Barbie patterns with her. Any scraps of material became a Barbie frock or a bedspread or a blanket of even a little dress for Skipper.
I was lucky that I had a brother who had G.I. Joe and a Wild, Wild West man. Those two fellows would always come and see Barbie via tank or horse. We made sure there were parking spaces for the tank and the horse.
One morning, Laurie from the top of the hill, was joining the girls at the bottom of the hill for a Barbie session. Laurie opened her Barbie case and had hangers and a very organized case.
As she was dressing Barbie, I noticed a flowered slip she put on her Barbie before the dress. I was obsessed with the slip. Obsessed.
It was break time and my mom came out with TANG in paper cups. She wanted to make sure we were hydrated but never mentioned how we were going to need Preparation H in about ten years. Anyway, somebody spilled TANG. It went everywhere. As were gathering up our TANG-soaked clothes, I accidentally (wink, wink) slipped the flower slip into my case.
Later in the day, my mom asked for my Barbie clothes. She was going to wash them, so we didn't have ants. No ants but hemorrhoids were ok.
She noticed the slip immediately. After it was washed and dried, I had to make the trip up the hill to deliver it back to Laurie. Ugh. I was pissed. But it was hers.
Apparently, the Barbie Dream House was assembled in the attic. Great hiding place. When my father was carrying it out of the attic, and down the "pull attic stairs", he tripped. All of this took place right outside my bedroom door.
Cuss words, my mom shhhing him, the reassembly, all of it, right outside of my bedroom door.
I was horrified. No Santa. No jingle bells from the roof. No magic. And my only gift was ruined.
But there was magic the next morning. As we leaned into the family room, lit tree and all, there she stood. My Barbie Dream House. Magnificent. I did notice that one of the walls was crinkled after the big fall, but I kept my mouth shut.
And in one of the packages, real Barbie clothes in the Barbie packaging. I was so happy.
It wasn't the Barbie doll that I loved. It was the companionship when playing Barbies. We came together with a commonality. Your Barbie could do and be anything you wanted her to be, or not. If you were happy with her delivering a baby daily, so be it. If you wanted her to teach school, great. You were her voice.
Barbie taught me how to be a friend and how to keep friends. Barbie taught me hand eye coordination because dressing that stiff plastic doll was a bitch. She taught me to take care of my things and keep them organized and neat in that Barbie case. She also taught me if you were not happy with the man in your life, check out cowboys or Marines, just go get a better man. And Barbie taught me to entertain myself. I could be happy and entertained all by myself and Barbie.
I am looking forward to watching the movie. And I will be sitting in a comfortable chair instead of cool concrete.
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