This year, for the first time in ages, my husband and I went shopping together for our children’s Christmas presents. After 19 years of marriage, that man can still surprise me, and I was downright shocked when he told me he was willing to venture into the crazy pre-Christmas rush to help pick out gifts.
You’ve heard the expression as “happy as a kid in a candy store”? That kid ain’t got nothin’ on me and Dale in a toy store! While Dale played with all of the toys, I tried to figure out which Nerf gun to buy our youngest son. As the night went on, we started finding items that we wanted. We made several pacts that went something like this, “Okay, I am going to buy you this for you, but you have to promise to act surprised on Christmas morning!”
One toy that definitely didn’t make my list was Lammily. Never heard of her? She’s the newest “Barbie” doll in town, but you might not recognize her. Instead of a doll with unrealistic proportions (if Barbie were a real woman, she’d only have room for half a liver with her 16″ waist!) the new Barbie is… well… normal. She’s got brown hair. She doesn’t wear makeup. She comes with zits and scars and stretch marks. She’s got some junk in the trunk. And her tag line is “Average is beautiful.”
Now, I understand where the artist who designed this average Barbie doll is coming from. There aren’t many real live women built like Barbie, and little girls shouldn’t think they have to live up to Barbie-like expectations. On the other hand, I’m not sure that aiming for average is the answer. What’s next? Minimum Wage Barbie? Credit Card Debt Barbie? Ken Just Left Me For His Secretary Barbie? It’s a slippery slope.
While we can all admit that Barbie’s body is impossibly perfect, you can’t judge a book by its cover. Recently, some disgruntled elves hacked into Santa’s laptop and found the following email from Barbie. It proves that no matter how great one’s life might appear on the outside, everyone has their own problems beneath the surface. See for yourself:
Dear Santa,
I’ve spent the last 50 years as the world’s most popular Christmas present. I’ve worn skimpy bathing suits in the middle of winter, attended countless tea parties, and pretended to actually like Ken, who we both know is nothing more than a pretty face. This year all that is going to change, because I’ve got a little Christmas list of my own. If these demands aren’t met, I’ll hire a Furby to take out your reindeer, one by one-starting with that stupid red nose.
- A comfy pair of sweatpants and a frumpy, oversized t-shirt. A girl can only wear bikinis and high heels for so long.
- A REAL man. I’d prefer G.I. Joe, but at this point even Tickle-Me-Elmo would be an improvement.
- Breast reduction surgery. I don’t care whose arm you have to twist, just get it done.
- Pink gowns. Pink corvette. Pink Malibu dream house. Pink PONY. If you give me one more pink accessory, I’ll put you in a pink neckbrace.
- Mattel stock options. It’s been 50 years; I’d say I’ve earned it, wouldn’t you?
Thank you, Santa,
Barbie
Happy Monday
(and Best Wishes for a Christmas That’s Way “Above Average”),
Mary
