News item: Unveiled at the American International Toy Show on March 9, 1959, Barbara Millicent Roberts -- better known as the Barbie doll -- hits the half-century mark on Monday.
Slowly swirling a drink, Barbie turned and checked herself out in the full-length mirror. Not bad. One day shy of 50 and the sands of time had yet to pour through that famous hourglass figure of hers. She still only weighed 7.25 ounces.
She was, by any measure, a success: a global icon, instantly recognizable from Toys R Us to Timbuktu. Cool lifestyle. Hot cars. Always on the cutting edge of fashion, with a shoe collection to make Imelda Marcos swoon. Mattel once estimated that every single second of the day, three Barbie dolls were sold somewhere in the world. Little girls dreamed of being her. The boys? They just dreamed.
Why then, thought Barbie, staring deep into her third martini of the evening, did she feel so hollow inside? Maybe it's because she was.
Not that anyone could tell. On the outside, she had barely changed at all. Her hair occasionally turned colour (blonde, red, brunette, never grey) and so did her skin, but otherwise she looked the same.
She got bendable legs in 1965, of course, and a bendable waist two years later during the Summer of Love. Oh, GI Joe liked that. "Hey, baby, I'm shipping out to Nam tomorrow. I might never come back." It wasn't until years later that she discovered he spent the war peeling potatoes in Fort Dix.
Barbie winced at the memory. Unless you counted the night she accidentally slept with Stephen Harper, it was the only time she had ever been unfaithful to Ken.
Ah, yes, Ken Carson. She had wasted 43 years on her childhood sweetheart before finally gathering the courage to give him the heave-ho in 2004. Did she regret dumping him? Not at all. You wouldn't think an anatomically incorrect man could be such a philanderer, but the louse had managed it somehow. If only ... if only it hadn't been with her best friend, Midge. She missed Midge.
Toyland was scandalized by the news of the affair. How could anyone cheat on Barbie? "That Barbie, what a doll," they all said. Perfect body, perfect face, perfect hair, perfect life. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Yeah, Barbie thought, she was perfect for Ken -- she didn't even speak until 1992. And even then, all she could say was, "Math is tough." Lord, what a bimbo. She cringed.
She threw back her head, swallowed her drink in a single gulp, felt it burn all the way down to her toes, where it sloshed around a little, lapping up toward her knees. Better be careful. One more martini and the booze would be leaking out her hip joints. She was drinking more these days. Alone.
Barbie briefly considered rummaging in the cedar chest, pulling out the wedding dress she had frequently modelled but never worn. Did no one else think it strange that she couldn't settle down? Did no one notice she was so restless that she had changed careers 110 times?
It was true: She had bounced from teen model to nurse to astronaut to flight attendant (though they called them stewardesses then).
She did the Private Benjamin thing, joined the army, then went trippy hippie after Woodstock. On and on it went: cowgirl (1981), rock star (1986), NASCAR driver (1998), U.S. president (2000), Mountie (2005). Anyone else would have been diagnosed with attention deficit disorder, but when you looked like Barbie, they just put it down to an adventurous spirit.
Her eyes strayed to the bookshelf, a biography of Mother Teresa. The cover showed a little old woman, wizened, wrapped in what appeared to be Babysitter Barbie's flannelette bedsheets from 1963. No make-up. No Manolo Blahnik shoes. No pressure to keep her figure, to stay on top of fashion, to succeed at her career, to have fun, fun, fun until you went off your nut, grabbed a deer rifle and turned into Clocktower Barbie.
Looking at the book cover, Barbie felt a twinge of jealousy inside -- an odd sensation for someone with no insides to twinge. God, she was perfect. Then she poured another drink.
