go ahead, have another donut

No, I haven't turned into some doll-torso photographing weirdo.  I was in Walgreens and noticed they have Barbie dolls.  "Huh.  They really did go through with normalizing Barbie's bust to waist to hip ratio."  You lose sight of such things when you pack up your dollies and don't have kids of your own.  You don't see them up close very often. 

I looked for an image of the 70s Barbie, from the time I played with Barbies, for a side by side comparison. Boy, am I sorry.  Google imaging "barbie torso 70s" is a NSFW kinda thing.  Apparently, in answer to the girls who fretted over their own less than hourglass figures, the manufacturer changed her body type. 

I have no problem with that.  I mean, who cares, right?  As a child, it never once occurred to me to look at a doll and think, "wow, I hope my bazooms are that freakishly large when I grow up!  Surely, this is an ideal I should live up to."  Nope.  Not once.  I thought about how creepy it was when you accidentally hyperextended her knees, or how frickin' losable her pink kitten-heeled mules were.  You'd get them with a new outfit and they'd last one day, two days, tops.  They fell off and mysteriously absorbed into the carpet. 

I eventually gave up my Barbie playin' days when I became a little too interested in Barbie and Ken's "alone time."  Even after Ken's head broke off and it was lost.

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