Yes, I know the title is a grammatical disaster.
I did not have a Barbie Doll growing up. It had nothing to do with my mother’s desire to maintain our self-esteem on body image.
She was “not about to spend good money” on one of those overpriced dolls that were not appropriate for little girls. I suspect her opinion had much to do with the bumps above the waistline.
Worse, my poor Nana would likely have had a conniption had she seen a Barbie Doll.
When she babysat, she used to turn off Lawrence Welk because those women were disgraceful, showing off their legs and dancing.
Yes, I know it’s a grainy picture. But, so was the one on our black-and-white television in rural Pennsylvania farm country.
So, what do I have to write about on Barbie’s 50th Anniversary? Friends!
Friends who planned in advance.
Mountain Margie
First up? Sherry Isaac, who’s enlightened mother permitted ownership of Barbie Dolls.
However, Sherry did not focus on the doll in her post today. Instead she focused on our mutual friend and master of the craft of writing, Margie Lawson.
In her post titled, I WANT A MARGIE BARBIE DOLL, Sherry shared what Margie brings to a writer’s playtime with EDITS and highlighters and “tighten up, Mama.”*
Margie is to writers what Barbie was (and continues to be) to young girls. Iconic.
[*Okay, Margie doesn’t say exactly those words. That comes from a carriage driver in New Orleans. It was his way of telling his horse to get going. I’ve always wanted to use it somewhere.]
Myndi Shafer, of one stray sock away from insanity fame, took her Barbie Anniversary post in another direction. She segued off August McLaughlin’s Beauty of a Woman BOA series. Celebrate you! Just the way you are.
COWGIRLS CAN GET THEIR GIRLY ON
For her post today, she invited friends and bloggers to share pictures of themselves for her I AM BEAUTIFUL, BECAUSE I’M A GIRLY GIRL.
The aforementioned Sherry Isaac chose to share a picture of the two of us at our girly-girl best on Myndi’s post. Hey! We have coordinating hats, chaps and bandanas. The bull ate our tiaras. Not our fault.
THE DOLL I’D RATHER PLAY WITH ANYWAY
Little Red and WONKY
And, now for my real-life Barbie Doll. Little Red. My ten-year-old granddaughter. She and I spent a MasterCard-slide-and-sign-day during her Spring Break.
What is especially cool about Little Red is that she has a mind of her own. Good news. Those boys are not going to mess with my Little Red.
In exchange for my inability to say “no” to her, Little Red agreed to drive with me to Arkansas to deliver a new pedometer to Squee-Key. We were shocked.
Shocked! I tell you, to discover he had changed his name to…
[Cue Kazoo trill]
WON-KEY! [Wonky for short.]
Why? I suspect it has something to do with the bananas gone missing at Starbucks© en route. We found him, spent an hour hanging with him, and purchased his forged legally updated passport.
This is where I should tell you where Wonky WON-KEY is on his virtual walk to Toronto.
I choose not to because I don’t want the authorities to catch him. And, there is that niggling detail about leaving my planning calendar at Starbucks© yesterday.
I will be back with updates.
Now, I’m going to publish this and lurk on the net, searching for other Barbie posts to steal honor with a linky-link and picture.
THANKS for popping in to visit. Leave a comment and I’ll enter you for a prize: a smile and a Squee! Tons coming up on my new site. We’re under construction at the moment. Look for a brand new brand and theme. I am not too old for anything. Including an identity crisis. I love to hear what’s up with–yes, even the manly men in the crowd–about your memories of Barbie or Ken or GI Joe. Whatever pops your kettle corn.
Got to hand it to ole Lawrence, he sure knew how to throw a party. Champagne bubbles, bare-legged hussies, singing, dancing! You may have to get a content warning for your blog, now.
Thank you for the shout out! WOOT!
Aren’t real life Barbie Dolls the best?
Let’s see. Shall I list what Nana’s no-no’s were? Not making fun of Nana in any way. She was Pennsylvania Dutch, and a branch of the Mennonites.
Nana no-no’s: women could not wear slacks, jewelry or make-up, dance and movies were verboten. Christmas tress violated the reason for the season. Showing leg above the calf? Unseemly.
The “no jewelry” rule included wedding rings. I remember when Dad bought Mom her wedding ring. There were five of us by then and we waited in the car while he and Mom went into the jewelry store.
And, yes. My real life Barbie is better than any doll I might have gotten as a child. Besides, funds would probably have limited us to one doll for the household. Five girls. One doll. She would have been dismembered into separate ownership parts within a week.
I LOVE the pic of Little Red. What a blessing to have her and enjoy time with a young girl who is empowered! BTW, you know that I actually am crazy about Barbie. I didn’t have a girl, and my boy had no interest in even the GI Joe version. This is such a fun post and makes me want to look for other Barbie posts.
They’re all over the net today, Brin. Come visit. You can spend a day with Little Red and me.
Little Red never got into the Barbie Doll craze. She was all over Groovy Girls. I had such fun shopping for those.
It’s Barbie’s birthday today? I had no idea! I must admit . . . I had an awful lot of Barbie’s growing up. And yup, those bumps above the waist line — bad news! Especially to a curious 11 year-old who’s wondering why Barbie doesn’t have pink circular thingies around hers, like I do mine? Will they disappear? Fall off? Turn into candy? Oh, the questions aroused from one little doll . . .
Gloria, I just smile when I read you talking about your Little Red. When I picture the two of you, I smile even wider. I see a Grandma who adores her grandchild just as much as that grandchild adores her Grandma. You are a special lady, and I thrilled God gave you a special one to love you back.
Xoxo
LOL, Cara. Turn into candy? For someone maybe…
You just gave me an idea for a blog post. Thank you.
I married my (step)children when they were grown. Well, then sixteen-year-old John’s “grown” status is questionable. I don’t consider his kids step anything. I’m their Glowie. They’re my grandkids. And, yes. I adore both of them.
Little Red is the one I spend most of my time with now that her older brother’s reached the ripe old age of 16. I got deja vu the other night when he called about a book report that was due the next morning. The day after spring break. The week long spring break.
God did indeed bless me with special people in my life.
HA! And there it is: “…a brand new brand …”!
Ahem…
Barbie wasn’t really my favorite. I preferred baby dolls and my cool blue banana seat bicycle to Barbies.
And the bumps thing? I have a friend who had to have a preventive double radical mastectomy and reconstruction. We named them Barbie b**bs. Until she got the tattoos, they looked exactly like them!
We joked that she’ll be 99 and that pair will still be going strong….
I have a friend with exactly the same situation, Pamela.
Curious about the tattoo thing, tho. Did she have to mark them R and L or Up and Down? Inquiring minds.
Loved, loved, loved your blogblogblogblog post today. Amen to identity crisis.
Why do my favorite blogs insist on dating me? I am so young a heart, if nowhere else. First one of my “mommy” bloggers posts about the real insanity of motherhood, which happened in another dimension in a land far, far away.
Now you talk about Barbie? My mom would hve had the same reaction if there were Barbies in my life back then in the dark ages when I was a little girl like Red, almost, but not as cute, or when I rode on bikes and not horses in Brooklyn and not wherever the heck that was, or when the cow jumped over the moon and ate all the blue cheese for the chicken wings🙂 I need a smile, a squee and a big hug. Did you know they actually made an anatomically correct Ken doll? Bet he would have curled your old Granny’s hair🙂
Oh. My. Stars! (That’s a close as Nana got to cussing.)
And when she got angry with someone? Her favorite thing was, “I could just stand them in a corner and throw water of them.”
Wonder what was going on in the marketing meeting when they decided an anatomically correct Ken was a swell plan.
You are not old. I am not old. I had to confirm the birthday Barbie is celebrating (50th) to make sure I was old enough to even have had a Barbie Doll. I was. It was Mom who denied me the Barbie doll.
Give me the Mickey Mouse club. I got a cowgirl vest and a holster set for Christmas one year. No cowgirl boots, tho’
So, when they did the western routine, I put on my snow boots.
Now, do you feel better about your age? I don’t plan to be in my dotage for decades–unless I have to use “addled” in combination with “dotage” to worm my way out of a jam.
Squee! and🙂
I was more of a Star Wars action kind of gal.🙂 Little Red is so cute. Sounds like an amazing trip to Arkansas.
Okay. That’s it. I’ve got to get up-to-speed on Star Wars. Perhaps if I watch reruns of The Big Bang Theory? No?
Do they have a Star Wars for Dummies book?
Little Red is as adorable on the inside as she is on the outside.
Thanks for stopping by. Congratulations again on the release of your most recent book, Ciara. I MUST comment on your post over at Brinda Berry’s site. On my way now.
Such a FUN post! And your granddaughter is gorgeous! (and thanks so much for including me in your line-up. *hugs*)
It makes me look good when people discover the cool blogs I follow, Myndi.
Thanks for bopping in to comment. You’re down to weeks now, right?
Yep. Two and a half, give or take. 🙂 I’ll letchy’all know asap. *hugs*
I thought I was the only girl on earth that didn’t have a barbie doll. Yes and have my real live barbie today too. My aunt loved Lawrence Welk and I liked the bubbles. I don’t remember what the women wore. All I knew was the Flintstones came on after. This is a sweet post.
Finally, someone else with Barbie deprivation. Oh! Oh! LOVED the Flintstones. Thanks for visiting.
Can’t wait for your next poetic post.
Great post! I didn`t even know it was Barbie`s birthday. What`s wrong with me? Ok, what I really want is an update on the calendar at Starbucks.
Woot! Update on Won-Key (alias Squee-Key) mile marker tomorrow. I brought the planner home, but it’s in the car and I’m too dang lazy tonight to go searching.
Thanks for the visit, Patricia.
I’m afraid I mostly had Bryer horses growing up. I did have one lonely Barbie, but she was a Skipper doll. Her ‘bumps’ were almost non-existent next to Barbie’s and she didn’t have any of the fancy accoutrements. But a Margie Barbie? Now that I could go for. I want one that can talk so she can tell me to “backload baby”!
Excuse my delayed response, Jessica. I had to look up Breyer Horses on the net to make sure you weren’t one of the privileged few with a real horse to ride.
How cool would that be? Riding off to school each day with your lunch pail banging from the saddle horn…
Oh. Wait. That was what you did in your imaginary world, right?
Now that you’re supposedly all grown up, you twist fairy tales and add secks [Points for clever disguise? No? Drat!] to them. Little Red Riding Wolf promo!
TOPIC SHIFT ALERT:
Do you suppose we’re giving craft master Margie Lawson a questionable rep with phrases like “back-load baby?” She can handle the heat.
I was feeling sorry for you that you didn’t have a Barbie, but then you don’t seem damaged by it. And since you now have your granddaughter barbie, it’s all good, right?
I wasn’t aware it was Barbie’s birthday–don’t ordinarily take note of doll’s birthdays–that’s not a criticism, mind you, just a statement. My philosophy–whatever shakes your boat.
Love your sense of humor. @corajramos
It’s like I mentioned in another comment, Cora. HAD my mother come to terms with the bumps above the waist, she would have purchased only one. With five girls in the family, we were expected to share. I’m certain there would have been a girl fight somewhere in Barbie’s life and she would have been dismembered into “my share” at some point.
My philosophy matches yours in re: taking note of dolls birthdays. The celebration of Barbie’s 50th was all over the Blogosphere.
Thanks for the compliment on my voice, and for your visit. Love your drinking the eclectic cool-aid tagline.