My girlhood imagination was endlessly entertained by these strange woman dolls. Not much gets me as excited these days. I can’t even explain the sheer bliss of waking up on Christmas morning to the sight of my vanilla scented Barbie Dream House, a home made of plastic columns, cardboard walls, and a working elevator! I actually fantasized it was my own real pink house. Today on the phone my grandma recounted years ago when I dressed my Ken doll in Barbie’s clothes and said “look Ken is dressed in drag!” She was shocked that a ten year old knew what dressing in drag was. Most of my Barbie dolls eventually got haircuts and an many became lesbians because there was only one Ken to go around for twenty Barbies. Thanks for the memories Barbie. Ha!

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