Another Plastic Doll

I have only owned one Barbie doll in my life. A plastic doll with perfect hair and perfect boyfriend and apparently big boobs, a unique addition made by Jack Ryan. The ideal girl or woman or all-around female. But I never saw her like that when I was a child. I was never really mesmerized or obsessed with her and her image. Barbie was just another generic, pretty doll who you could dress up and do her hair and march her around different places. Sure, she was pretty but so was every other doll. Sure, she had boobs but was the big deal? Sure, she seemed to have a perfect life, but why did that matter? I knew she was just a doll,made-up, make-believe, nonexistent, a piece of plastic. She was manufactured to perfection. She was not me or any other little girl or woman. The plastic doll had a plastic boyfriend and plastic mansion and plastic objects. Everything was plastic and didn’t amount to anything but a fabrication. I knew that I would not grow up to be a Barbie and few would come close. Again, because she was and still is PLASTIC. So, for me, Barbie was not a role model but just a doll for me to play with once in a while. After all, I was more interested in playing with Legos and talking with my stuffed animals (Pinky and Bebe) and playing Uno. Barbie was not really important or even interesting to me with her lackluster image.