I still have yet to see the movie, but while watching a video from Drag Queen and Barbie collector Trixie Mattel ,I had an idea. I wondered if I could find a Barbie doll from 1965,the year of my birth. And because it’s no longer 1965,I have access to a computer and it took mere minutes to find out that while the original was not available, in 2009 Mattel reissued several older dolls under the title My favorite Barbie. The doll wasn’t as inexpensive as it was in 2009 at a whopping 200 Canadian dollars, but it was worth it to me .
And then, because I’m overly generous, I immediately set out to find Barbies from 1990 and 2013 for my stepdaughter and my niece, respectively, because every girl should have a Barbie from the year she was born.
All 3 dolls are new in box and will be good investment and display pieces
Im pretty sure that I got my first Barbie doll in 1971, I was only 6 years old and it was the Malibu Barbie . She was very tanned and blonde, my exact opposite.
My second Barbie doll was the Sweet 16 Barbie, and I had been begging my parents to buy it for me for Christmas of 1972. Then, just a few days before Christmas, we made a stop at a store, and I saw my mother purchasing the doll through the window of the store . Unusually for me, I kept my mouth shut about what I’d seen until I opened the gift-wrapped package and noticed it was signed from Santa 🎅. Not wanting to out Santa Claus as fake to my brother, who was 4 years younger, it wasn’t until years later that I let my parents know how I’d figured out that Santa was fictional.
The doll that told me there’s no Santa Claus
I’m not sure what year it was when my parents built me a house for my Barbies, but it looked just like our house as they used bits of our wallpaper and shag carpet from the house. Barbie dream homes were just too expensive, and the personalization made my doll house special đź’•
Just one more Barbie story to tell. This is the story of my Barbie heartbreak at the hands of my aforementioned younger brother and his friend, who was the lucky recipient of the entire collection .
This is the story of the crowned jewel of my Barbie collection, my Miss America Barbie doll. Technically, she was a Stacy, Barbie’s brunette friend, and I wanted her BADLY!
Miss America Stacy. I screamed so loud with excitement when I got her.
I think this happened when I was 10. I came home from school to find out that my brother and his friend, Claudine, from 2 houses down the street, were playing with my easy bake oven and my Barbies. I wondered why the whole house smelled like burning tires,only to be told the most heartbreaking news of my little life. All of my Barbie heads had been melted. Mom tried her best to open the easy bake oven, but the damned thing was on a timed lock, and there was no rescue for any of them . And yes, was the response to my only question, “What about Miss America?
The very next year, I sold the entire collection, house, and all to Claudine’s mom for Claudine and her little sister for 200 dollars that served me well during our European vacation.
There, I said it and it feels good to get off of my chest. I am now at an age where having them in the future isn’t possible. I have passed the point of no return and it’s a relief.
It seems that lately I am being asked more and more if I have kids. Over the years I have answered that question in a myriad of different ways (from a simple no to a more humorous, no that I know of), depending on who was asking, how they asked and the look of expectation on their face. Usually I try to answer in such a way as not to invite more questions, unfortunately that rarely works.
I don’t understand why people think it’s okay to pry into my reproductive life upon first meeting me. Let me take you on a little trip through a typical conversation upon meeting another woman who does have children.
Her- Do you have kids? (or the alternate, How many kids do you have? because she can’t fathom a grown woman not having any)
Me- No (or none)
Her- Why not?
Me- It just wasn’t in the cards for me. (but I’m thinking, none of your damned business)
Her- You know you can always adopt.
Me- Yes, I know.
Her- Or there’s in vitro, or surrogacy.
Me- Yes, I know.
Her- But you have kids in your life, right? Like Nieces and Nephews?
Me- No.
Then I politely change the subject so as to get that puzzled look off of her face.
I know that it would be more honest to just say I don’t have kids because I don’t want kids, but this seems to invite hostility from women who do have children and there’s no need to push those buttons. Women who are mothers tend to feel that I am somehow negatively judging them if I say I never wanted children. Honestly, I think it’s great that you had kids and that you are loving being a mother. I’m just not that kind of woman, so I chose not to have children.
I don’t like children. Even when I was a child I played with older children. I never played with baby dolls, instead playing with Barbie dolls and dreaming of the day when I would be a big girl. I never dressed my cat up as a baby. I dressed him up as a groom and married him weekly (poor Softie), but that’s another story. I had very little interest in my little brother when he was a baby. The one memory I have of any intrigue I had surrounding babies was when my Mother was breast feeding my brother. I was about 4. I recall just staring and trying to figure it out. Finally I had a eureka moment and said, “I get it! One is for milk and the other is for orange juice!” Even just a couple of years ago, I was walking down the sidewalk and almost tripped over a stroller while I was noticing a cute dog.
I am just not meant to be a Mother, that’s my choice and that’s okay.
