I'm a Barbie Girl, In a Barbie World

When I think about being a kid, so many great things come to mind. Riding bikes, playing on Big Rock and in Pine Tree Fort. The castle on the hill beyond the road leading to our house. Ice skating and sleigh-riding. Our jungle gym. Playing house and school and office. All the fun things that we get to do when we are kids. And then I think of the moments of sexual awakening, which began, of course, while playing Barbies.

No joke, my Barbie was such a slut! She would wear these hoochie-mama outfits, always with stilettos, her perfect plastic boobs pushing the limits of the little plastic buttons that held her tight blouses together, barely. Ken was no slouch, either, his bulge making its presence known in his metrosexual style slacks. Barbie would go on a date with Ken, or sometimes GI Joe (he was more flexible and even had facial hair!) and once in a while Tonto, our Indian doll. Regardless of whom Barbie went out with, the date always ended with Barbie splayed on top of the boy doll, behind the town house or RV, while we made kissy sounds to accentuate the moment.

There was something satisfying in living out our young sexual fantasies in this way. Completely harmless and fun, being able to vicariously kiss boys and wear tight clothes in make-believe land, knowing that my mother would never allow me to actually do such things. I wonder whether boys had their own juvenile way of getting off. The boys in my neighborhood would want to play war, and capture the girls as their prisoner, the proximity of our wriggling bodies what I think they enjoyed. And we didn't mind so much either, allowing ourselves to become a prisoner of theirs for a few moments until they were called into dinner or had to rush off to defend their backyard from the other neighborhood kids in on the game. But nothing, not even the fleeting moment of having a boys arms around me, compared to Barbie time.

And now that I think about it, Barbie was single, ready to mingle, happy to have her multiple outfits and multiple boyfriends, never wishing to be married with children. She slept alone in her plastic bed (my Barbie would never bring a guy home... all of her liaisons happened outside of the home), but would be busy all day, cleaning her condo, riding her horse, making dinner, getting ready for her date. The worst part of her day was when she couldn't find one half of her pair of really hot heels (they were so tiny, it was impossible to keep track of them!) or got into a plastic-handed slapping match with her sister Barbie, who was stealing one of her many men. Slut, I tell ya, and a jealous one at that!