My cousin Alma had a Barbie, which I adored as a child. Additionally, my Uncle Jules (my favorite boy’s name, French Husband, did not like it, but that is another story) transformed an old radio cabinet into a Barbie house, even though it never had a radio. I was thrilled whenever I got to go to Alma’s house to play Barbies. My Aunt Frannie made numerous Barbie clothes for her, and we would spend hours dressing up her beautiful Barbie. I can still see myself sitting on the floor by the radio cabinet / Barbie house, glued with an admiring heart and imagination to the wonders it evoked.
When Christmas came, I asked for a Barbie, but my mom bought me Skipper instead. My mother didn’t believe it was appropriate for a little girl to own a Barbie with pronounced breasts, so I received a flat-chested Skipper.
Skipper wasn’t the same as Barbie, and it only intensified my insecurity about not being as beautiful as my cousins, who were my best friends. However, that’s a different story altogether.
Anyway, Alma had another Barbie whose breasts were mutilated by their dog (maybe that’s why I’m afraid of dogs?). She gave me the deformed Barbie, which had a golden appearance; to me, she was everything.
Did you have a Barbie.
Photo examples were found online.
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