I\'m Summer, a mouthy, sarcastic bitch. I\'m passionate about natural birth, long term breastfeeding, and living naturally. I curse too much, love tattoos, and will some day be crushed to death by my book collection. I homeschool, dream of gardening, and swing to the left. 
I Was Never a Barbie Girl
Jenny from Pajama Mommy has a group writing contest going on right now. The theme is What’s your best memory of life with Barbie? As soon as I read that I laughed so hard that I snorted. This is a story I have to share!
You see, I was an odd child. Big shock, I know! I never really liked playing with Barbie dolls. Something about them just irked me. My Cabbage Patch dolls I loved, my stuffed baby dolls were great, even the giant knitted scarecrow someone made for me was played with often. Barbie, not so much.
Yet my mother insisted on buying me several. I’m not sure why. Maybe because it’s what every other girl my age wanted, maybe she hoped Ms. Perfect would inspire me in her 30 billion job choices day by day, maybe she just liked Barbie herself and thought that I would. Whatever the reason I soon found myself the unfortunate owner of a fairly large Barbie doll collection.
My relief came in the form of a new driveway. My uncle had added a new porch to the side of the house and had converted a large window into the new front door. To go with the change the old driveway had been filled in with dirt and a new one was being made on the other side of the house. A huge pile of gravel sat waiting to be shoveled into place, and my uncle’s big wheelbarrow was loaded full of more gravel.
I’m not sure what gave me the idea, but that wheelbarrow became my new Barbie play area. A few broken twigs stuck into the ground, some large smooth stones found here and there, and some toy flowers turned that wheel barrel into a graveyard. Oh yes, I made a graveyard. Of course Barbie had to go, but I certainly wasn’t cruel enough to bury her alive. For the entire week I spent my days coming up with new and interesting ways to off Barbie. One had her had chopped off by guillotine, another was ran over by a car. A drowning took out one, another fell off a mountain. The Barbie whose knees could bend? She met a tragic end falling down the stairs.
As each one went off I carefully buried them in their places, complete with graveside service and weeping mourners. When the last one was gone I wiped a tear, sighed with relief, and went on with my playing. I don’t know if anyone ever discovered my doll cemetery, or what they did once it was found. No one ever said a word to me about it, but I was never given another Barbie doll again. I never killed again either, in case you’re worried.
LMFAO!!!! That is frigging hilarious. Thanks for submitting it too. xD
That is hilarious! I was never really into Barbie either. I had one that I named One Legged Moose (I have no idea why that precise name was chosen). She was missing a leg and the cats had chewed on her hands. One of my sisters had given her a hair cut too. I think my biggest beef with Barbie was that I could now hand sew clothing for her because of her odd shaping.
What a great response to Barbie abuse!
I wonder how many girls have been forced to provide homes for Barbies just because their moms thought they should play with them.
My grandmother & I used to love to create Barbie fashions, so I tried to share that love with my daughter. Well, my daughter didn’t inherit this love. In fact, she is on her way to the hot tub now to reenact a “Killer Barbie” play.
Archaeologists of the future will be very perplexed by the row of dolls buried in their gowns and nurses outfits!
Oh how funny!! I use to flush Barbie’s head down the toilet because I had one of those stupid Western Barbie or some crap whose hair was suppose to curl up. Yeah right!
Biotch got the bowl!
I love this post.