Oh, don't worry. I didn't actually throw them away. I simply stacked them up to take off to a donation center tomorrow. Just call me Miss Havisham.
Growing up, my grandmother bought my sister and me porcelain dolls for Christmas and birthdays. Every year. Anna loved them. My emotional response could best be described as "Eh." But my grandmother is nothing if not determined (see my earlier post about her popcorn balls). Despite my insistance that I would adore a miniature horse as opposed to a miniature human, she knew I would come around. And so, the march of the dolls continued until we each had a literal army of rigid-limbed ladies in waiting. I've kept my troops shoved in their original packaging and stacked on the dreaded top shelf of my childhood bedroom closet. Also known as Toy Purgatory.
Now, years later, my mom has new designs for that storage space. Let Judgment Day begin.
Oh yeah. You thought I was joking, weren't you? Apparently it took me eleven separate birthday events (Jesus's or mine) to convince my grandmother to stop the Doll Onslaught. She even tried branching out, buying Victorian bears instead of Victorian girls, babies instead of ladies. One time she even bought a short-haired doll, which turned out to be a less feminine version of a sheared Kerri Russell a la Felicity.
In fact, now that I take a good, hard, adult look at all of these Mini-Me-s ... they all look pretty forlorn. Take Little Precious here, who apparently tried to end her ribboned existence with the metal stand I left in with her in her box. I swear, I found her like this.
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| Don't do it, Bertie!!! |
The rest of the dolls don't fare much better. The Christmas carolers look less than festive. The baby looks haggard, which I didn't even know was possible. And split ends about. Seriously, ladies. I know you like your curls. But some leave-in conditioner wouldn't kill you.
In the end, three dolls make the cut, mostly because they were the first three that Grams gave me, so I remember them the best. I give you:
Amanda!
You gotta love Amanda. She is honest to a fault. I mean, just look at her. Does she look happy to be rocking those pigtails? Nope. And she isn't sucking in that bottom lip for no one. She's always the first to tell you her opinion on your outfit, on your life decision, on your bagel choice at Panera. It definitely causes some friction in our little girl-group of four, but she's also always on your side.Well, unless you eat meat or wear fur. She's a hardcore, card-carrying member of PETA and even threw red nail polish on one of the Christmas carolers rocking a fur muff. Man, that was a crazy night, bailing her out of jail!
Bride!
Okay, so this one didn't have a name on the box, and I wasn't having the most imaginative day when I got her. So her name is Bride.
BUT, she is clearly the conservative one of the group. The hopeless romantic, I dare say! She is always on the lookout for that perfect true love and takes the motto "Be Prepared" to the extreme. The other girls and I have tried explaining her that the whole wedding-dress-outfit might scare off any potential mates, but she sticks to her nuptial guns.
On the plus side, she's always a willing DD for our wild nights out on the town.
Brooke!
This is Brooke. Her real name is Tina. We all call her Brooke, since she has long, crimped hair like Brooke Schultz, a girl I went to elementary school with. Brooke's so funny! She's always saying, "Hey, guys, can you call me Tina?" And we're all, "Haha! That's hilarious Brooke. Like we'd call you Tina." And she's like, "No, seriously, it really bothers me. I've told you guys for years that my name is Tina. I get really upset when you don't listen to me. "And we're like, "Whatever, Brooke." And then she starts crying. It's HILARIOUS! Oh, Brooke, always good for a laugh.
Congratulations, Amanda, Bride, and Brooke! Thanks to your distant connection to my childhood memories, you win a long life sitting in a box on the top shelf of my adult bedroom closet! Get your boxes packed!
And, if anyone is interested in a short-haired Victorian tomboy or a self-harming blonde in polka-dot overalls, let me know. I'll hook you up. Stand included.
UPDATE: really tempted to make a "please adopt me" video featuring a Sarah McLaughlin song with this picture.
UPDATE: really tempted to make a "please adopt me" video featuring a Sarah McLaughlin song with this picture.
and there's the problem! parents and Grnads never really paying attention to what is going on. Makes me wonder How well do I REALLY know my grands! On a different note, if you have the boxes still for these Babe's and they are a 'name brand' there maybe some value there. I also wonder did your grandmom have dolls when she was growing up? was it something she wanted to collect.
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