Little girls play with plastic dolls. Little men play with plastic women.
When girls are young, they are given plastic dolls to play with that emulate the perfect female form…one that does not exist in nature, but in the imagination of men.
We spend the rest of our lives trying to live up to that ideal.
The “lucky” girls have moms who dress them perfectly, and they grow up being given special treatment because they have the right hair, the right clothes, the best figure. They don’t learn how to lean on a sense of humor, develop a curiosity for literature or arts, or take a particular interest in anything that isn’t directly related to their appearance to the outside world. They become a Barbie doll. Beautiful to the eye, but empty inside. Air between the ears and cold hard plastic in bed.
We then became women, mothers, professionals, and best friends. That’s when we became beautiful… inside and out. We struggle in midlife with the labels. We are so much more that a man’s show piece, but men are afraid of us. Many are terrified to go toe to toe with a smart, beautiful female who has opinions and ideas that are independent of theirs…
Part of me would love to get Barbie in that boxing ring and mess up her nose but good. Mostly though, I just feel sorry for her because she is lonely and empty, wondering why everyone else seems to be having a good time, and she is going in to have yet another procedure done. Sad really….
My heart goes out the Barbies of the world, and the men who are bent on owning them. They dress them up, show them off, then discard them when they become bored and needy. There is a newer, younger model available at any given time.
A girl’s life is about so much more than plastic dolls and Barbie…it just is.