Barbie: Smart or Dumb?
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A woman of my generation talks about what her Barbie doll meant to her.
I kept this plastic epitome of ’50s beauty and femininity enshrined in a pink vinyl box. She was decked out in a skin-tight bathing suit and spiked sandals. She had long hair and a blob of black plastic at the end of her baby blue-lidded eyes, high cheekbones with a splash of color and ruby red lips.
Her breasts were huge and pointy while her waist was almost non-existent. Her legs were long and so were her fingers, capped off by red nails.
She was da bomb. And I wanted to be just like her. She hadn’t yet become a doctor or a college professor or even a stewardess. She was perpetually 18, and she had everything I wanted. Beauty, style and true love.
I never thought about whether she was smart or dumb.
Still Barbie After All These Years
