Saratoga News The new Barbie knows value of cellulite and purple calves Debbie Farmer I thought it was a joke when I first heard Mattel was planning to give Barbie a makeover by widening her hips, reducing her bust and flattening her facial features. I was pleased my daughter would finally have a plastic role model that resembled me, but I couldn't believe a child would want a Barbie that couldn't fit into jeans, was constantly on a diet and hung out in front of the television in the camper wearing a muumuu because she never got asked out by Ken. Mattel planned to create six new dolls with the new "natural and today look." This was a real turning point in the fashion world, although I wasn't sure if the new Barbie was invented to show little girls an alternate standard of beauty, or if the other Barbies needed someone to make fun of. I couldn't imagine a doll with my "natural and today" look--purple calves, buns of cellulite and a stomach with its own fanny pack. I bought the updated Barbie for my daughter because I thought it would be good for her to have a realistic role model, and I harbored a desperate, maternal hope she would transfer her idolatry to me. "It's a new Barbie!" my daughter said as she pulled the doll out of the box. "Mommy," said my 3-year old son, pointing to the doll. "I call her the 'Working-Mother-of-Two Barbie'," I said. "Look in the box; I think she comes with a plate of leftovers and a thigh master." "Where's her bathing suit?" My daughter shook the empty box. "She doesn't have one," I said. "But she has a nice, sturdy pair of sensible shoes." My daughter frowned. I quickly tried to find something positive to say about a Barbie that needed support hose and an elastic waistband. "Look! She has a wardrobe just like Mommy!" My daughter didn't look impressed so I added, "and she's really, really smart, just like you." She considered her new Barbie for a moment, then said. "I'll call her Francine." While my daughter introduced Francine to the other Barbies, I congratulated myself on making a brilliant purchase. Everything was going great until Ken asked Francine out on a date. "Mommy," my daughter said. "We need to get Francine nicer clothes." "But I have a dress just like that," I said. "She only has one outfit that fits," she said. "Jeans won't go on, and her feet are too wide for high heels." I seized the teachable moment. "Francine doesn't need to go anywhere with Ken," I said. "She's going to go to college and get a high-paying job, so she can support herself without being dependent on a good-looking, muscular man with plastic hair." My daughter stared. "She doesn't need new clothes or stiletto heels to be beautiful," I continued. "Her inner qualities, such as kindness, confidence and integrity are what matter." I felt important and proud as I bestowed my motherly wisdom on my daughter. She considered Francine for a moment, then tossed her over her shoulder into her closet. "Ken will take Gymnastic Barbie instead." Francine was dumped for a doll with good thighs. I cursed myself for making such a stupid purchase. That night, when I went into my daughter's room to kiss her good night, I found Francine tucked in beside her and Gymnastic Barbie laying haphazardly on the floor. "See, good legs aren't everything," I whispered. She gave me a puzzled look, then I adjusted her blanket and turned out the light. Debbie Farmer can be contacted at debbie@ecis.com. [ Back to Contents Page | Saratoga News Home Page | Archives ] This article appeared in the Saratoga News, January 13, 1999. ©1999 Metro Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.