The only thing that ripped my little lady nubs about my Barbie selection, was that my parents would never buy me a Ken doll. My endless requests/well penned letters to Santa for the bronzed plastic perfection that was Ken doll, was denied denied DENIED. And it's not like they couldn't afford it. For whatever reason, they just didn't want me to have it.
Hi Ken. Sorry I could never have you. Blame my Mum.
It seemed so unfair that all my girl Barbies lived such a humble nun-like life with absolutely no dick around. I asked for Ken every god dam birthday & christmas. I got a Barbie car, Barbie four poster bed, Barbie Cane Lounge Furniture (remember this was the 80's) & even a Barbie motherfucking horse. I had an elite bitch pack of about 20 Barbies. But no bloody Ken.
I dreamed of a beautiful Ken/Barbie wedding. It consumed every part of my life..
Ken & Barbie 4 EVA
What made this whole 'no Ken' situation even more hard to bare was that Peter Frosty got a Ken doll for his birthday & waved it around in front of my face like he'd just found a golden willy wonka ticket. Even then, at the age of 9 I wanted to smash him in the scrot sacs so dam hard. First of all, because he was a snotty nosed dickslap & didn't deserve such a wonderful piece of man doll. And secondly, fucking Peter got everything including every my little pony on the shelf.
At some stage during those Barbie lovin years, my Grandparents went away on holiday. Somewhere on a plane far far away. All I cared about is what they were going to bring me back. Every night I went to bed & said a little amen in my head to whothefuckever, that Grandma & Grandad would pretty please bring me back a Ken doll from wherever thank you amen.
I waited. In my 9 year old perception of time, it felt like 1 year to each day that passed. Every day I asked my Mum when they were coming back from their holiday. Of course I missed them but lets not fuck around here, the idea of rad holiday presents consumed me. And I was confident that yes, Ken was coming back in my Grandparents suitcase from wherever they went on their holiday & my prayers would be indeed answered.
The night before they arrived, I was so batshit excited that even if you'd heavily sedated me I wouldn't have been able to sleep. I also may have had a little bit of anxious diahorrea. Shit was about to get real.
When they finally arrived at our house I couldn't even go outside & greet them at the car because I really truely thought I was going to yak my Weetbix all over the place. I was finally about to get my hands on the one thing I had wanted for so long & my tummy spazed up knots.
My sister & I sat on the floor around Grandad & Gradma's feet all wide eyed & peeing in our pants for them to get that suitcase open & show us the goods. We got lollies (yep awesome hurry up with the ken), felt pens & colouring books.......& the piece de resistance (cue shining of lights down from the heavens).......another girl barbie. Airline Barbie to be exact. What. The. Fuck
Now because my parents bought both my sister & I up with impeccable manners, I hugged the shit out of my Gran graciously thanking her for my awesome holiday booty. Even though on the inside I was so upset that all I really wanted to go was get on my red bike & go burn every house down on my street.
I walked the asshole walk of defeat to our playroom & cried angry heartbroken tears. You know I was really trying to be grateful because I loved my Grandparents more than chips (& I loved chips hard), but I was so disappointed. I cried solidly for 2 days & probably did some really naughty shit. I was a serial & avid pincher in my youth. It was my defense tool & my sister got it all.
Eventually, like with all childhood disappointments, I got over it & Airline Barbie got her time in the sun. But before I introduced new Barbie to the bitch clan, I gave her a make over. I cut all her hair off. I decided that if no one was going to buy me a ken doll, I would make my own. Even if he had a big pair bitch tits & was dressed in female flight steward uniform .
Essentially, what I actually unknowingly invented that day, was Transgendered Barbie. But he/she was my fill in Ken, at a time in my life when no one would hook a cuz with the real macoy. And dang y'all that Tranny Ken banged some serious Barbie fanny.
It was at this time I realised that the looney & the anxious poo problems had already begun to manifest itself.
Anyone else out there that would've sold their entire family for a toy?
Peace!
P.S Welcome to the new fullas & fullessa's that have joined my bad, mad & extremely vulgar world. I will endevour to crack your shit up/make you snort your morning coffee out your nose atleast 3 times a week.
P.P.S Faux Ken & Barbie did end up getting married. And it was awesome, if not a little awkward for the guests that attended. They obviously didn't feel my kiwi ingenuity. Dicks.
P.P.P.S Peter Frosty The Barbie Doll King is now a loud proud gay man. Go figure.
