As many of you know, I’ve been selected as one of the 8 moms who participate in The Barbie project, which is insanely awesome. This is one of my absolute favorite stories about Barbie, as it takes the idea of her being a role model and influencing a child to be a better person to a whole new level. About two years ago, one of my daughter’s friends, Ella came over for their first playdate and brought over a bag of Barbies, as Ry had requested.
At my house, Continue reading
That’s my confession. Barbie hasn’t fiendishly ruined my daughter’s self image — quite the opposite — she’s helped her learn to solve problems, to be accepting, to stretch her imagination, and to have compassion.
As a card carrying Gen-Xer, I had an obsession with Barbies. I played with them until I was nearly 14, which I try not to admit in public because at that age, your Barbies are basically having make-out sessions that lead to awkward Barbie hookups, which is both ironic and also impossible – hello, has anyone seen Ken’s crotchal region?
You guys probably already know this, aside from being a stressed out mom, I’m a Gen X Lifestyle Expert, which means part of my job entails nostalgically recalling all the fun things that came out from the 70s, 80s, and 90s … and I do so with love and a somewhat sick obsession. Which is why I can’t understand why all the totally awesome characters that were popular with my generation needed to be glittered, glammed, and slutified for my kids.
Do you remember the innocence of Polly Pocket, how she just bent at her midsection? The chubby cheeks of a Rainbow Brite and her color gang? Of course you do, because that was what made them adorable and innocent, like we were (or claimed to be… Barbie and Ken had a lot of nude makeout sessions in my Barbie Dreamhouse).
They didn’t look like they were on their way to go clubbing with Ke$ha. They didn’t have curves and they certainly didn’t don body-hugging unitards that Miley would call too racy for an awards show performance.
I get it, I’ve seen how racy and slutty are in these days, hello MTV awards. Look, my daughter is currently obsessed with Bratz, which are pretty much the sluttiest Barbie-esque dolls ever! Not only do they scream “No means yes,” their accessories include cocktails and cellphones, though it looks like some of them should come with an IUD instead … or at least a morning-after pill. To keep up with the sexified doll craze and the Disney stars gone porn, it seems the nostalgic characters of our youth are trying to enter the clubs scene, the kid’s club scene, that is.
Here’s proof:
No matter what your weight or size, most of us experienced that moment when we realize it’s time to “retire” a pair of our favorite jeans because they just don’t fit anymore. Damn you, slowing metabolism. Damn you, gravity. Damn you, left over mac n’ cheese.
Yesterday while trying to dress my daughter’s Barbie in a stunning pair of silver lamé jeans, I realized they weren’t going over her thighs. WTF? Had she gained a few? Had she borrowed a pair from Skipper? Was it her time of the month? Was she spending too much time in her Barbie McDonalds and not enough on her Barbie bike?
All I know is, this scene seemed oddly familiar. Trying to yank some slim pants over unyielding thighs… where have I seen that before?
Oh right, my closet, that’s where.
At first I felt a tinge of pity for Barbie. I breathed an empathetic sigh as I resolved to get those once fitting lamé pants over her rubbery legs. Continue reading