With the birth of a new millennium almost here, I've decided to do it. I'm taking up a new challenge, one that's long over due. For the sake of future generations of daughters (and dare I say sons), I'm coming out of baby-imposed retirement to tackle an ever present threat to society. This is the deal.

For years now I've been a good mommy and purchased every Barbie gismo and gadget made. This perpetually tanned and leggy beauty has had a home with our family for so long I'm thinking of claiming her on our taxes. Hey I'm entitled, I've bought enough pink pumps to shod Tahiti, (do they even wear pumps in the tropics?). Over the years, I've concluded the people at Barbie central are simply not human. Aliens? Maybe. Artificial life forms ? Possibly, but definitely not ordinary Homo Sapiens like the rest of us. Toys, I know, are suppose to stimulate the imagination but seriously folks, I think Barbie may just be the anti-Christ in drag! She's taking over the world one toy box at a time.

My husband thinks I'm having a mid-life crisis. I'm not. I just don’t want my kids growing up thinking that nobody has to have a last name (Barbie and Ken …what? ), or that it's normal to have a waist the same size as your thigh. It's definitely not. Give me reality or give me, well… options!

I've decided to start my own line of dolls. I'm calling it the Real Woman's Collection and I'm starting at the top (of the perfect, plastic head that is). How many women do you know with hair like Barbie's? Sleek, flawless, practically glowing? I'll tell you, none. That’s because REAL women have spilt ends, gray hair, dandruff and sometimes even a few thin, balding spots. So much for that supernatural mane. Make way for the BAD HAIR BABE. Instead of having her own pink plastic comb and tiara, she'll come with her own shower cap, hair net or wiglet. You go girl.

Of Course, we'll have a little Miss PMS. This charmer comes complete with Valium bottle, bloating body and a rotating head so you can change her moods with a simple touch. Now that's a toy even a mother could love!

Let's not forget THUNDER THIGHS BABE. Sporting her elastic waistband jeans, double chin and jiggly upper arms, she'll make every girl feel better about her own body. Who said toys can't be therapeutic? Not me.

Our collection of course, won't be complete without the full line of accessories. No snazzy sports car for our beauty. She'll drive a real woman's car. Maybe a 1979 Buick, complete with rust spots, smoking tailpipe, and torn upholstery? Let's hear it for NO more disappointed 16 year olds expecting that pink corvette in their driveway.

No super speedboat, no sporty little jeep, and no mammoth sized motor home. If truth is what we seek, we'll find an inflatable dinghy, a leaky tent and a push mower in this garage. Call it ugly, call it painful but call it fact.

The grand finale of our real woman's collection will have to be that man of mystery, Ken.  Don’t get me wrong I appreciate Ken's great tan, his muscle bound physique, his great teeth but, remember that the key word here is reality.   In my quest for truth I'd have to give Ken a bad hair cut, (real hair please no more of this plastic head stuff), a little middle age spread (aka potbelly), hair in his ears, a remote control adhered to his hand and of course, appropriate sound effects (burping, snoring and other bodily noises I can't bring myself to mention). One more word about our hunky helpmate before we move on. Has anybody else noticed that Ken has problems keeping a job? Aside from his stint as 'Malibu Ken' the surfer dude, has he ever had a lasting occupation? I thought I spotted a Doctor Ken at Wal-Mart once, but there was only one and he was in the clearance aisle. Guess Ken just doesn't have what it takes to make it in the working world.

Wish me luck ladies. Finally, we mere mortals with less than perfect skin, flat feet and those tiny facial hair problems will have a role model too. So what if I don't have my own ice cream parlor, airplane or elevator? So what if all my outfits don’t' have coordinating shoes and handbags? Can't I still be an astronaut, a movie star or a doctor? Sure I can. 

With the dawn of the new millennium, anything is possible. Maybe this will be the year that America's sweetheart finds a new hair stylist, (same hair for what, 40 years now, geesh!), considers some breast
reduction surgery (how would you like to carry those coconuts around for the better part of a century?) and gets rid of that freeloading Ken (time to get a man who can hold a job). Move over Barbie, there's a
new girl in town. She's new, she's improved and she's a real doll.

 

© Linda L. Mattingly 1999