Back in the early 1980’s I lived with my wife and three kids in a very remote place in N. Idaho. Long muddy 4x4 road to get there. no electricity, no running water, no phone. We home schooled our kids and there were a few other families in the area within walking distance all in the same “situation”. I held a lot of radical views that led me to this lifestyle. I wanted nothing to do with modern materialistic society and the culture that was destroying the world.
At Christmas time of course packages arrived from parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings. For our daughters of course, what girl doesn’t want a Barbie? The most disgusting symbol of everything that is wrong with our society. So there they are, BARBIES in my house!!!

What happened next was a beautiful transformation as my daughters played with their new dolls. The first thing that Barbie ditched was her shoes, as if she’d been wanting to liberate her misshapen feet all her life. Of course after the shoes, why not the rest of her clothes. Within a day or so she had transformed from “Malibu” Barbie into totally nude “Oh my God, this is my first Rainbow Gathering” Barbie.

Next of course Barbie got some tatoos and within a week her hair was already dreading into some “natty” locks. Ya mon, Rastafari Barbie. By now she had some home made Guatemalan fabric clothes. In another short while she decided the dreads weren’t her thing so she just went for the Sinead O’Connor look.

In less than a month of full immersion in our lifestyle with my daughters “Malibu” Barbie had become Buff Rustic, Back to the Land Barbie.

One day my youngest daughter was playing at our friends place and their daughter pulled out a box of spare parts Barbies. Arms, legs, torsos, heads, from African American barbies, WASP Barbies you name it. So they could make any kind of mixed race, Mestiso, Metis, rainbow Barbies they wanted.

My whole attitude about it just dissipated into nothing. Barbie? yeah she’s cool.

:smiley: :smiley: ;D :smiley: Too funny.

I am in concurence with homeboys evaluation of this anecdote.

Here is a poem. I didn’t write it.

Barbie Poem

I think that I shall never see
A woman as lovely as Barbie
Barbie, with her ski jump nose
Standing tall on tiny toes
Impossible boobs that will not droop
To conquer Ken, she need not stoop
If she were mortal, she would be
Six foot five and a hundred and three
She’s so tall, I could not feel shorter
Small wonder I have an eating disorder
She sleeps in her camper next to my bed
With visions of traveling filling her head
She wishes she could sing like me
But she can’t
Her mouth is painted on
And her eyes won’t shut
And she never bleeds
And she never cuts
And she cannot read or count or cry
And she’ll never age
And she’ll never die
And I think that I don’t want to be
Staring straight ahead for all eternity

Barbies also were a lot more fun for me to play with as a kid than those stupid GI joes. Barbie didn’t kill things for fun, or come with guns, or any of that crap. Also, she made me feel pretty in a way that boys “aren’t supposed to.”

Yeah, you want to see stuff used for transition tech? give it to a kid and don’t tell them how it’s supposed to be used. My son cracks acorn shells with the remote.

great story, heyvictor. ;D

i remember giving barbie some pretty radical makeovers, too.

but the real fun? launching my friend’s kiss dolls (er, “action figures”, with makeup) off the top of the swingsets with their jetpacks. for some reason, we never did that with barbie.

Magic Markers, finishing nails, and a few cuts with scissors… barbie had tatoos, piersings and a mohawk… my cousin was pissed… still has it… My cousin is 34. She has tatoos, piersings and a mohawk.