Just enough Barbie

I was skeptical but went to see the Barbie Movie last week. Barbie and I both came into the world in 1959, so like most little girls since then, I don’t remember a time without her. She, along with Ken, Alan, Midge, and Skipper were a part of our family.

My sister Anne and I played with Barbies before the days of pink Barbie mansions and convertibles. We made our Barbies a house under a card table covered by a blanket. Our fashionable dolls slept in shoeboxes and sat on chairs cobbled together from scraps from our grandfather’s wood shop. While Anne’s dolls always looked nice, mine more closely resembled the ‘weird Barbie’ in the movie. (I once melted my Skipper’s head by trying to ‘dry’ her long blonde hair on a light bulb.)

Barbie pursued many careers later in her life, but for us in the early ’60’s, she was mainly about the clothes. Each Christmas Anne and I got a huge box of homemade Barbie clothes from our grandfather’s cousin Lillian, a relative that we met only a time or two. I think now about the time and energy she put into sewing the miniature slacks and dresses to give us, children she hardly knew. But our Barbies and friends always had a plentiful wardrobe at our house, including the shoes, gloves, pillbox hats, and matching purses that came with the store-bought outfits. Ken even got to come off the beach to wear a tuxedo, perfect for his wedding to Barbie!

I never thought much about what type of role model Barbie presented with her pointy bust and permanently red lips. The only women I knew were homemakers and teachers in my early years. My mother resembled Barbie with her slim figure and love of pretty clothes, so I can’t blame Mattel for the poor body image I acquired in adolescence. (I was probably more damaged from Ken’s lack of, ahem, genitalia.) But through the years I applauded Barbie for her professional pursuits, long after I had packed her away in a vinyl bag with her clothes and accessories.

Anyone who has ever played with a Barbie will be able to relate to the movie, which is light-hearted, campy, and tongue-in-cheek. Without giving away too much, I will just say that in the movie, the perfect Barbieland overlaps with the real world, causing a crisis for all concerned.

The movie has been labeled by naysayers as a commercial for Mattel, and that may be true, but what elevates it above the usual fare is the monologue by America Ferrara, playing the real woman Gloria. She deplores the impossibility of being a woman in today’s world while trying to meet all the expectations from within and without.

“You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It’s too hard! It’s too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.”

You can read the full monologue here.

Gloria suggests that we need a “Just enough” Barbie. I agree! I have spent my entire life feeling like I’m not enough. Someone else has always been prettier, smarter, funnier, thinner, more athletic, and better at my job. My house will never be featured in Southern Living, my book will never be on a best-seller list, and I will never go viral for my insights.

I heard a call to take a breath and be happy with myself and my lot in life. As Barbie and I are reaching Medicare age, I’m ready to accept that I’m okay right where I am, with my waist that seems to keep expanding no matter what I do and my house that is never clean.

When I accept the amazing fact that I am loved and cherished by God, no matter what, that yearning for perfection and to make everyone around me happy diminishes. Becoming my true self brings me peace and contentment.