Special Barbies
As a sort of celebration for the release of Marcus Goodyear’s new book of poetry (to take a peek yourself, click here ), several bloggers were invited to participate a writing project. There’s also a contest going on over at Tweetspeak Poetry.
The topic? Barbies. Having played with Barbies myself and now a mom with a daughter of my own who also owned her fair share, I felt it was a topic I could run with. So, here’s my take on Barbies:
Although they’re all stored away in the attic now, my daughter has quite a large collection of Barbies. Do a Google image search of “Barbies” and you will likely find:
Princess Barbies
Doctor Barbies
Mermaid Barbies
High School Musical Barbies
Camp Rock Barbies
Movie Star Barbies
Hannah Montana Barbies
Surfer Barbies
Astronaut Barbies
Heck, there’s even a President Barbie (God help us.)
Each one looking so very special and unique sitting on the shelf in the toy aisle. Each acquisition a “must have” around Christmas and birthdays. Some sing a recorded song, some are dancing ballerinas. Some have a gorgeous Malibu tan, others come equipped with a stethoscope and a clipboard. Still others come bejeweled with lavish earrings and equally lavish evening gowns. A new Barbie takes center stage in the life of a little girl.
But you know what? When all is said and done; when little girls outgrow their love of all things Barbie. All those doctors, movie stars, princesses and presidents look very much the same…
When they’re all piled up lying naked in a box.
Feel free to draw your own analogies…
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That could be the most disturbing thing I have seen for a while.
.-= Shark Bait´s last blog ..The other me. =-.
Pure blasphemy! Don’t you remember how important my Barbies were to me while growing up? I named my Ken Doll “Big AL” when I was little….ended up marrying the guy.
Please dress the dolls and give them a proper burial. Or ship them to me and I will.
.-= sherri´s last blog ..Invisible Water (called "age") =-.
So I see I wasn’t missing much at all.
Oh this was classic Katdish! Classic!
I love you. I really do. You’re awesome.
.-= Cassandra Frear´s last blog ..Pink =-.
Ah yes. The box of naked Barbies tucked into the attic. Mine was stuffed onto a shelf in the garage. And then, one day, a little girl moved in next door and I convinced my daughters she was just dying for a box of Barbies and wouldn’t a gift like that be a great opened to talk about their baby-sitting services? Alas, who could have known a box of naked Barbies could make such a policitical statement about the subjugation of women. Whatever happened to Feminist Barbie? The girls didn’t get the baby-sitting job, but I did get rid of the box of Barbies — the daughter had not yet embraced all her mother’s feminist values and was so into high-heel strutting, tiara touting, wasp-waisted dancing silicon moulded Barbie!
.-= Louise´s last blog ..In the silence of my heart =-.
You know that extremely long list of people that you “crack up”? Add my name to it, please.
Classic ending here.
What would I give to still have the original and all her stuff? She was sold one year while I was away at college, for hundreds of $ that today would be thousands $ and would have helped with expenses when my son when to college. Since’s he’s just graduated, it’s all moot.
I think Sharkbite must have missed Marcus’ Barbie Enchiladas, which truly is a disturbing image.
And why has no one said anything about Ken running around with all those babes?
.-= Maureen´s last blog ..See Me Let Me Be Me Barbies (Poem) =-.
Maureen! Ha.
The thing about Ken I mean.
Katdish, I liked that final observation about homogeneity. The diversity we see in Barbie never touches the body shape itself. (I have gone and drawn my own conclusions, as you advised : )
I’ll have to ask somebody in my family to be sure… But I don’t remember ever having Barbies. I had about a zillion stuffed animals… Maybe four Cabbage Patch Dolls… But I don’t remember Barbie being in my menagerie. And honestly, I spent most of my time outdoors, trying to prove to the boys that I was as tough as they were. (I wasn’t and they weren’t convinced…)
.-= Sarah Salter´s last blog ..The Christian Atheist – Ch. 2 – Shame =-.
Profoundly spoken. That picture spoke a thousand words. To me: When all is said and done, at the end of the day when the lights are low, all the acrylic nails, the clothes, the positions, the power, the titles, the haircut and color, the make-up, the facade of how we live during the day-it ends up being us, naked with ourselves and our maker and our lover if we have one beside us.
Then, it is only how we love and let ourselves be loved. This is the only thing that matters.
.-= Kathleen´s last blog ..Olive Press =-.
Oh, Kathleen! So very true. Thank you.
That was a gnarly way to end the post.
.-= Duane Scott´s last blog ..A Buddy Makes All the Difference (by Sandra Heska King) =-.
Never was a big Barbie person. Probably had to do with the fact that my older brother used to duct tape firecrackers to them and light them off…. leaving singed Barbie body parts around my backyard. *sigh*
disturbing, huh?
.-= *~Michelle~*´s last blog ..Agape Love =-.
I hate to admit this, but all this Barbie talk I’ve seen today brings back some latent childhood memories I thought were repressed. I remember my sister’s collection…I was so jealous of Ken…and that Mustang convertible. It hurt so bad…love unrequited.
Definitely like the brunette barbies better…married one-brunette that is…
I. Love. This.
Okay, two things.
1. Apparently someone really wanted that Barbie in the middle to be very dead. She has lots of bullet holes in her diaphragm. Or else, they’re spear-holes. You know, like from the movie 300, where all the spears strategically missed Leonidas’ privates.
2. I think this is a good metaphor in general for life. In the end, we’ll be stripped of everything external and have only what God gave us and what we did with it. What an equalizing day that will be!
.-= Lainie Gallagher´s last blog ..Definately Seperate; A Grammatical Kind of Holiness =-.
I think those holes are for a ‘sound box’ of some sort. You know, where you squueze her and she says something like “I’m empowered; lets go make some cookies” or whatever.
Of course it could just be some serious Barbie-stabbing going on.
.-= Sharkbait´s last blog ..Caffeinated Randomness – I can’t hear you. =-.
No. Barbie-stabbing. What we have here is a murder case.
.-= Lainie Gallagher´s last blog ..Definately Seperate; A Grammatical Kind of Holiness =-.
I had a Barbie head when I was a kid…it was just a big head that you did her hair and makeup but my sister colored her face with a marker and then cut her hair so she was ruined
I have a friend that is in her 70s that collects Barbies. She won’t even let you open the box and has a shelf that goes around her bedroom ceiling that was built just for her dolls. She probably has over 100 dolls. She would probably cry if she saw that box of naked barbies…just sayin 
.-= Kathy´s last blog ..Woohoo! It’s Saturday! =-.
I loved my Barbie, but hated the pretending, which now that I think about it was role playing, and as everyone knows, role playing is stupid. My Barbie couldn’t afford fancy store bought outfits, no, no, my Mom and Grandma made outfits, then taught me to sew outfits too. In fact, a promise was made that if I did a satisfactory job of handsewing outfits, I would be taught to use the real sewing machine. And that, is how I learned to sew. My Barbie is fully clothed to this day, and recently moved to Stephens City VA with me, as did the newer imitation dressed in a swimming suit with collectable box and certificate of authenticity.
.-= Robin M Arnold´s last blog ..The Marriage Project: Week One =-.
Oh my word, who knew there was so much ado to make about these plastic people!
And that Barbie head deal is a creepy prospect indeed. In my house, the head would turn up in the fridge or hanging from the shower or crammed into someone’s underwear drawer. Ya know, for the screech and scream effect.
Yes, we are all just a bunch of naked people underneath all of our clothes (my analogy).
Wait, perhaps you have stumbled upon a Barbie nudist colony in your attic? Where they dressed when you put them away? Oh dear, better call detective Barbie…
Blessings.
.-= A Simple Country Girl´s last blog ..From the Mouth of Barbie =-.