Hello. Remember me?
I used to post here. Its been so long since I’ve written on this blog, I thought an introduction might be in order. I have found that writing is not so much a talent or a skill as it is a habit. I fell out of the habit and hence the long, cold, dark corridor that grew between posts. So, I’m back (at least for now) turning on lights at the old blog and trying to kick start the habit. Its amazing that all that’s gone on has not motivated me to write – a new Harry Potter movie, a new Eels album, a trip to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, a trip to New York City (and no I did not bring back any bedbugs – at least none that have bitten me yet) and nary a word about it from me. Well, now all that seems like old news and we don’t want to rehash the past – so I’ll just move forward.
Here is the issue that’s foremost on my mind right now – to Barbie or not to Barbie? My little niece has found my old Francie and Stacey dolls and her mom’s Starr doll and is captivated by them and their little shoes and their little clothes and carries them around in various states of undress. She is 3 and a half years old. I swore to myself 12 years ago when my first niece was born that I wouldn’t buy any little girl a Barbie — mainly because I believe it gives young girls a very negative image of what being a female human being is all about – its not about the clothes or the hair or the shoes – its about soul and knowledge and charity and intelligence pushing the human race to better itself … what? too much to ask of a doll?
Oh, yes I know Barbie has tried to change her image but just because you put glasses and a lab coat on her doesn’t make her a role model for future female scientists. She is still a bimbo except she’s wearing glasses. Its still about the clothes and the hair and the accessories. And here, here is where the hypocritical part of all this rears its ugly, unblonde and uncoiffed head – I LOVED my Francie doll – I still do. So much so, that when my niece combs her hair a little too roughly I can’t help but yelp and grab the doll out of her cute little hands. I used to love, love, love looking through the little catalog that came with the doll. It was full of mod and groovy clothes and shoes that I could never afford for her. My mom would knit for Francie and make her clothes. As I got older I made some for her too – the kind that looked great from the front but were all pinned and roughly stitched in back.
But look at what loving that Barbie did for me – am I a scientist or a mathematician. No. Am I contributing anything other to society than sporadic ramblings on questionable topics? Uh, now I’ve gone and depressed myself. See! See, that’s what Barbie’s do to you.
And I’m not really a shoe person – really – I have one or two pair of sketchers that I’ve been wearing to death and a couple of high heels that I haven’t worn in months – but the sight of all those little shoes in their little cases …. what do I do? Do I go against my beliefs and buy my niece a Barbie and accessories or do I just go ahead and buy them for myself, stash them in the garage and play with them when the kids aren’t around. What to do…. what to do….
For the record, I have similar issues with G.I. Joes for boys. My nephews won’t get GI Joes from me. Funny enough tho’, I don’t have issues with superhero figures. When you get into the realm of fantasy, weird body proportions and strange wardrobes don’t really matter. Oh, and that reminds me, in case you were wondering — we’re just going to leave Ken completely out of all this for now.