When I was young, I really wanted a Barbie doll. But Mother wouldn’t let me have one. She was convinced that this too-thin, fashion-obsessed airhead would fill my brain with pink rubbish and trigger body image issues.
Dimpled Cabbage Patch Dolls were deemed acceptable, as were Pound Puppies. But, goddammit, I wanted a Barbie. She was blonde, glamorous, popular – attributes that I thought might somehow rub off on me.
