Long ago and far away
When I was a little girl, I had a butt load of Barbie dolls. I kept them and all their clothes in a five gallon pickle bucket, and I amused myself for hours, helping that little plastic doll live a perfect life. I wanted to be Barbie back then because she had that handsome husband, and those cute little itty bitty molded hair babies. Today, I still want to be Barbie, but my reasoning has changed. Today, I’m 40-something, with a handsome husband and a passel of real-haired kids, and I still want to be Barbie because that bitch has everything.
