When I was 10 I used to lock myself in my room and play Barbie for hours. Sometimes it ended in drastic haircuts, other times marriages, but usually with someone’s head being popped off. Although I had a lot of respect for a girl who could rock one of my many failed attempts at an early “Rachel,” I had to admit I was a little jealous. Don’t worry, as a grown up I don’t pop people’s heads off if I’m jealous…I just blink my eyes until they disappear.
Jealous of what you may ask…. her perfect body? No. Her pent house? Not quite. Her unending supply of friends? For any lonely girl in the suburbs probably, but not this one. I was jealous of the whole package. The lifestyle, the glamorous parties I would make her attend, the fact that she never had to change underwear.
All of those hours spent with my (close to) 40 Barbies taught me some life lessons. Or at least things that I should never try or even attempt, ie: taking a walk in Barbie’s shoes.