3 under 3


Posted on: September 20, 2012

In two sleeps, Molly will turn 4. In two sleeps, another of my so-called ‘parenting rules’ will fly out the window.

You see, she’s getting a Barbie.

Actually, she’s getting TWO Barbies (one from each Grandmother).

Before having kids, I swore I would not ever introduce a Barbie into my house. It’s not personal; I’m sure Barbie is a cool chick. She can do heaps of things now besides cook and clean and lie around sunbathing. She’s a qualified doctor. And a nurse. That’s dedicated. She also has achievements in the field of veterinary science, and is quite the pancake chef. She has played several sports at representative level: swimming, tennis and gymnastics to name a few.

No, Barbie is fine. But why does she have to look the way she does? Why can’t she just look like a human being, rather than a freakishly tall, long-necked tip-toe-walking, plastic-faced weirdo??? Would it be too much to ask for little girls to have someone a bit less sculpted and perfect to aspire to?

I never really did get Barbie. I had one as a kid. My friends all had boxes full of them. I dabbled in playing with them, but lost interest quickly. I was kind of hoping Molly would take after me in this respect. But, no. She is, I hate to say it, the epitome of a ‘girlie-girl’. Pretty dresses, high-heels, lipstick, nail polish, dancing, dolls, weddings, PINK! She loves it all. LOVES it.

Molly was introduced to Barbie by some of her little friends, and now she is hooked. She wants in. I’ve tried to explain how I feel about Barbie, but really, what can I say? “No Molly, you can’t have a Barbie because Mummy doesn’t like how she looks…” Hmm, maybe not!

Still, I really thought, for quite a few months, that Molly would just have to live Barbie-less and make do with visiting her friend’s Barbies to play.What finally changed my mind was on one such visit, when I watched Molly play with her friend’s Barbies for an hour, chatting away to herself merrily and taking them on adventures around the house. She was so happy. Sigh.

In a last attempt to avoid the inevitable walk down the dreaded Pink Aisle, I did an internet search for a similar doll that wasn’t so offensive to my feminist senses. All I could find were scary-looking Mormon dolls from America, which were being sold as a ‘wholesome’ and ‘homely’ Barbie alternative. I think one of them may have been called ‘Chastity’. Yikes! No thanks.

So, Barbie it is.

I called Molly’s Grandmothers and gave them both permission to buy her a Barbie for her birthday. This way, if the Barbies mess with Molly’s head and she ends up with body image issues at the age of nine, I can blame the people who gave her the Barbies and not myself. That’s my logic and I’m sticking to it.

I am making one contribution, however:

If Barbie is going to live in my house, she can at least earn her keep! Astronauts get paid heaps, right?

2 Responses to "Caved"

[…] You just got some Barbies for your birthday (see this post for how I feel about that). I knew you would LOVE them, of course, but I will admit it’s […]

Hey Anna, I agree with every word! The longer I can go without Barbie in the house the better. And why do they have to like pink? And dresses when I have just bought a new wardrobe of shorts?

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