Outgrowing Barbie
At an early age, everybody around me knew that I am such a kikay girl. Everything that I own should come in the color “pink” or else I do not want it.
I grew up being obsessed with pink and the epitome of pink: Barbie. From head to toe, I would go out looking like I am wearing Barbie merchandise. From my toothpaste and toothbrush, it should be Barbie. I remember convincing my dad to even let me watch one “Barbie” movie even though it was past my bedtime.
Whenever we went to town to buy my school costumes, we never left without purchasing “Barbie” CDs. I would test them on the store’s TV to ensure they were not defective. In elementary school, I longed for a second-floor Barbie pencil case, but my school did not allow such cases. Despite my disappointment, my mom promised to find a suitable alternative that complied with the school rules.
As a child, I adored Barbie-themed treats like popping candy. On my seventh birthday, they gifted me a cherished Barbie watch, and the next year, fabulous hot pink Barbie boots. However, my glass Barbie tumbler broke, soaking all my notebooks. My dream was to be featured in the Barbie magazine, share my collection, and imagine friendship with other Barbie enthusiasts.
When we got our brand-new family computer, I watched videos of other kids unboxing their Barbie dollhouses, and I bugged my parents to get me one, too. I really wanted the one with an elevator. But, being young, I did not really understand the concept of money, so every time they said, “It’s too expensive,” I would just pout automatically.
I remember when my parents prepared a surprise for me to buy my dream toy, but they staged a little act, taking me along to buy the toy that has been living in my dreams ever since I watched it on YouTube. I could not contain the excitement of having numerous choices of dolls! But when the saleslady asked if the toy was for me, my dad said, “No, it’s not for her.” I was so sad that I started to question things. “Why will I be the one to choose the toy if it’s not for me?” I ended up running and crying to my aunt. As a consolation, she bought me a Barbie sling bag and a Barbie placemat to stop me from crying. I did not spare my parents a glance on our way home.
As it turns out, the toy I chose earlier was for me all along! And that was the happiest day of my early years on Earth because I was able to get three Barbie collections in just one day! It was so simple for me back then; the root cause of my tears would probably be because of Barbie and the solution to stop me from crying was Barbie.
When I was invited to my classmate’s birthday party, my parents and I agreed to give her a Barbie mermaid. The doll was so extravagant! My Mom said it can even change colors once dipped in water. I was so happy for my classmate that I immediately bragged about it to her the next day. My parents made me promise not to open the gift because it was not meant for me. I nodded, and they thought we had an agreement.
When my parents were at work, I could not resist opening the Barbie gift. To my delight, I discovered its hair could change color when dipped in water. However, guilt struck, and I hurriedly returned it to the damaged box, pretending I had not opened it when my parents asked.
I thought they would scold me, but instead, they burst out laughing and said, “Well, then you won’t be able to attend her birthday. Just pray that you won’t be classmates next time.”
The representation of my childhood was Barbie. I was obsessed. Before, I could not imagine a day passing without watching a Barbie roleplay on YouTube.
I do not know when it started, but I began to outgrow Barbie … I gave away all my hard-earned Barbie collection without any difficulty because one day, I suddenly felt fine even if my day passed without a Barbie. I also got bored with Barbie movies; the excitement was not there anymore when I passed by the doll section in toy stores. It even reached a point where I no longer wore just pink or Barbie merchandise.
Barbie symbolized my childhood. As soon as I outgrew Barbie, there are things I can no longer do because I am no longer a child. When I fall asleep on the sofa after playing with Barbie, I will not wake up in bed the next day anymore. I now understand the concept of money as I study economics at school. My parents and I will never have the same bond we used to have because we drifted apart from each other. Barbie is no longer my only concern now, and Barbie is not the solution to my problems anymore.
To the seven-year-old me, I know you will be sorrowful to find this out but that’s life.
We grow up.
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Marielle Arce, 15, is a passionate writer and storyteller, and a big fan of narrative essays.
