So the other day I actually had a few minutes to catch up reading my favorite blogs. There was a post on Woman in Thrisis about Barbies that just took me back in time!
When Blondie was little, she had a bit of a Barbie collection brewing. We had a Barbie house, and the neatest Barbie suitcase to house her clothing and accessories. One Christmas she got so many Barbies it took Daddy and I half the day to get them all out of the packages. (Not only do they tie-wrap the ankles, wrists, and waist, but they even sew the hair down to the box! Opening these things should be an Olympic sport.)
We had Barbie Mom, Skipper, the twins, Veterinarian Barbie, Beach Barbie, and The Little Mermaid Barbie in every variety from deep sea swimmer to princess bride, but the one that still stands out the most was Bertha Big Butt.
Ok, so originally, her name was Barbie too, but it didn’t suit her. She wasn’t meant to just be Barbie. No, she was a real woman. She came with a set of what my girlfriends would call “birthing-hips” that just didn’t fit in any of the Barbie pants. It was a challenge to get any skirt on her. She was definitely an authentic Mattel Barbie, but somehow, she broke the mold.
She wasn’t the same as any other Barbie in the box. We had more fun laughing over trying to get Bertha’s pants on than we ever did helping Vet Barbie give plastic puppies their rabies shots.
Bertha taught me and Blondie an important lesson. Even Barbie can come in different shapes and sizes. Even Barbie might need her jeans altered. And despite her thicker hips and bigger booty, she was still beautiful, bank rolling on her doctor salary, and just as much the party girl as the rest of them. You know what else? Ken paid for all her drinks!
When I think back to the pre-teen years and how Blondie obsessed over her own shape and size, I wonder if God didn’t just make sure Bertha was there to set a foundation for us to help us realize, there’s nothing wrong with thicker thighs. The world doesn’t revolve around size! Strange lesson to learn from a Barbie, but maybe there’s more to her than plastic perfection after all.
Thanks Woman in Thrisis, for reminding me about Bertha and the many smiles she put on my little Blondie’s face!