I'm a Barbie Girl
April 27th 2011 10:19
As I sat with a red wine earlier tonight, discussing with my fabulous flat mates my long-standing desire to get a boob job, something became apparent. And it wasn’t good. I appear to have based how my life should have turned out on Barbie’s. Not just on the completely unattainable and actually physically impossible figure, but in other even less realistic (yes, possible!) ways.
I’m not sure if it’s returning to work after 5 days off that spawned this, but I spent today being decidedly discontent. And when prompted by my grouchy face to ask why, I found that Barbie factored into my answer.
As a little girl, Barbie personified everything I thought I would, and was meant to, grow up to be. She had a body to die for, a never-ending wardrobe, no need to wear flat shoes - ever, a devoted and handsome man-friend, a change around home and office…the list goes on. Does (her) life get any better? Apparently it does – the last thing I saw advertised for the Barbie collector was a private jet. No wonder I feel inadequate.
Currently, I find putting together an on-trend ensemble that hasn’t been seen a bunch of times already for the office every day enough of a challenge. I’m also supposed to be able to juggle this full time job with an amazing house, a stable full of horses, maintain a jet boat and look after my surrogate child (sorry “little sister”) Skipper? Hmmm. Yes, when looked at with perspective it is entirely what it is – fantasy, of the most fantastic kind. But I do wonder if my current unrealistic expectations of where my life should be aren’t linked back to all these fantastical play times of yesteryear.
And so that bring me back to the boobs. I wonder if my unrealistic expectations as far as my adult body goes also stem back to Barbie. I really did believe I would grow up and look like that. And watching the Victoria’s Secret parade yesterday possibly didn’t help…If only I’d kept all those Barbies and their fabulous accessories. Maybe I’d be able to afford those boobies…
I’m not sure if it’s returning to work after 5 days off that spawned this, but I spent today being decidedly discontent. And when prompted by my grouchy face to ask why, I found that Barbie factored into my answer.
As a little girl, Barbie personified everything I thought I would, and was meant to, grow up to be. She had a body to die for, a never-ending wardrobe, no need to wear flat shoes - ever, a devoted and handsome man-friend, a change around home and office…the list goes on. Does (her) life get any better? Apparently it does – the last thing I saw advertised for the Barbie collector was a private jet. No wonder I feel inadequate.
Currently, I find putting together an on-trend ensemble that hasn’t been seen a bunch of times already for the office every day enough of a challenge. I’m also supposed to be able to juggle this full time job with an amazing house, a stable full of horses, maintain a jet boat and look after my surrogate child (sorry “little sister”) Skipper? Hmmm. Yes, when looked at with perspective it is entirely what it is – fantasy, of the most fantastic kind. But I do wonder if my current unrealistic expectations of where my life should be aren’t linked back to all these fantastical play times of yesteryear.
And so that bring me back to the boobs. I wonder if my unrealistic expectations as far as my adult body goes also stem back to Barbie. I really did believe I would grow up and look like that. And watching the Victoria’s Secret parade yesterday possibly didn’t help…If only I’d kept all those Barbies and their fabulous accessories. Maybe I’d be able to afford those boobies…
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