Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Me and Barbie

Evidently, one of my first friends turned 50 this month and the bitch still looks younger than me.

I'd mostly forgotten about her until I attended the Biloxi Mardi Gras Parade last month. Amongst all the beads flying from the air, some woman on a float handed me a genuine Mardi Gras Barbie to me and I somewhere angels began to sing. Thought I would piss me'self from JOY. Instantly, I turned back into a 7-year-old and began squealing with delight.

Julie, my sister, agreed that it was the "score of the day" and my brother just kept shaking his head, knowing full well what her re-appearance meant: "Of all people to get the Barbie ... of course it would be YOU." (Mardi Gras Barbie came complete with a giant stick up her ass which means she stands proudly in my living room, stuck in the soil of a lush plant - toned arms raised to the heavens in celebration.)

Admittedly, I 'played Barbies' longer than I should have, long after all my friends stopped - or said they stopped.

My best Barbie buddies, Cindy and Allison, were crucial here. Cindy and I shared all our best stuff - motorhomes, swimming pools, townhouses, sparkly purses, etc. - and Allison was known for creating entire Barbie villages out of everyday household items. A green pillowcase became a park, a shoebox was a bus (when the 'Vette was in the shop) and a mixing bowl was a hot tub.

So, I wasn't prepared for the recent media splash recognizing her 50th birthday; Barbie was suddenly everywhere I turned, with one fluffy feature after another announcing her durability ("At 50 years old, Barbie gets tattoos -- and a megastore in China") or deriding her ruinous effect on the body images of so many impressionable young gals.

In so many ways, my current life is merely acting out all the Barbie fantasies I had as a girl. (Though she certainly got laid a lot more than I do!) I don't recall being too affected by her idealized figure though the sheer expanse of her fashion may have done more damage.

Mostly, it was her independence that I coveted. Barbie could do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, with whomever she wanted. She could lay by the pool in the morning, become an astronaut in the afternoon and wear rhinestones to bed - all of which she did often.

Okay, so maybe I don't do much pool lounging, space travel or sparkly sleeping but thanks to Barbie, I know I certainly can. You don't need teeny, tiny shoes or a waist too small for no actual organs to know that. Like most blondes, B was smarter than she looked, a major part of her secret charm.

Happy Birthday, B! You showed 'em!


Heidi's heart said...

I once saw a living Barbie strutting on the strand in Venice Beach, wearing white high heels and a white bikini, with an amazing specimen of a sculpted, ebony-skinned man as her escort. They turned the heads of everyone in sight.

ClizBiz said...

Oooh! What a great visual. If Barbie is going to live anywhere, surely it would be Venice.