When I came home from work today my husband told me that I was going to be very excited. There was a box on the dining room table which I was pretty sure did not contain my CPAP supplies. I knew SHE was coming just did not know it would be today. As I opened the box I did start to get excited about it. Here I am, 45 years old, getting pretty excited about a doll that I have not played with in 33 years. I pulled her out and just looked at her. She was beautiful. She had blue and black hair. Being a total weirdo I took off her clothes. I had read online that her body looked different then other Barbies. And they were right. Her hips looked full and now they make the "lady parts" look like underwear. That was cool. Everything else looked like Barbie had only - curvy. She just seems more proportionate then the traditional barbie. And I like that. She is just lovely.
I had previously blogged that I was not overly aware of the difference between me and the Barbies that I had. They were all blonde and thin. Looking at this doll, I now know that I did feel inferior to that Barbie. That I would never look like that and I was imperfect. And now I think that little girl in me really knows that she was ok, that it was okay to be tall, and curvy, and have curly hair, and laugh too loud. I was and am pretty and my size (although changing) is who I am and who I will become. Isn't she lovely? Yes, I am.