A Trip To Virginia, by Annabelle (Disney Frozen Anna Of Arendelle by Mattel)

 

(Note from Treesa: This post has been in draft a 'lot' longer than planned, but Annabelle was having trouble stringing together the photos I'd taken into a cohesive story.)

When Treesa started packing her bag for a long weekend trip to visit her sister in Virginia she didn't get the idea to bring a doll with her right away. Treesa hadn't been bugging her dolls for blog posts as much as she used to either. At least that's what I heard. Everyone I talked to felt like she'd been giving us dolls less attention. Halle thought this was a bad sign and said we should all prepare for the worst. But Suzanne told us Treesa sometimes goes through phases where her priorities shift and things get put on the back burner for a while. Suzanne said she'd seen it before and she didn't think it was anything to worry about.

What matters is almost at the last minute Treesa remembered the blog and decided she needed a doll to take with her. Word got around that Treesa was looking for a doll who would drop everything and come to Virginia. I'd heard of Virginia before at my old home. I knew a little about George Washington and Thomas Jefferson from my first owner's history textbook. Treesa is my second owner. I also knew that a lot of important things in American history happened in Virginia like the founding of the Jamestown settlement and several Civil War battles. I've always liked learning about history. It's kind of my thing.

But I knew my chances of getting picked to go on the trip weren't good. I lived in part of the house where Treesa keeps dolls she thinks need some work. Nude dolls she can't find the right clothes for or dolls with molded clothing pieces she wants to cover up are kept separated from the rest of the collection. Treesa says it's because she wants all of us to have the chance to make a good first impression. But some of us end up waiting a long time before Treesa can rework our looks into something she's happy with.

I knew I had at least two strikes against me if I wanted to go on the trip and get my picture posted on the blog. For starters I had a molded top with molded sleeves. Treesa never liked molded doll clothes. When she redressed Sabine in that Princess Leia poncho Treesa was really happy with Sabine's new look and called it a "redress success". Treesa said the poncho made Sabine look "less like an action figure and more like a doll". I don't really understand what's wrong with looking like an action figure. Then again Treesa's a doll collector. She's not an action figure collector. So maybe she's worried her collection will get too big for her to handle if she starts adding too many 12 inch action figures. Maybe she's trying to stick to buying mostly dolls to keep her collection smaller and easier to manage. But if that's the idea it's not working very well.

The other thing that made it a lot less likely Treesa would want to show me on the blog was my failed makeover. My first owner had tried to give me a whole new look by chopping my hair short and adding to my paint. She'd covered my fingers with messy black paint that was supposed to be nail polish. Treesa stopped trying to clean it off when she realized my arms were molded from blue plastic with painted skin and the skin was starting to rub off along with the black paint.I also have a paint rub on my lip from Treesa scrubbing too hard when she was getting off some matching black lipstick. I never really liked how the black paint looked so I was glad when Treesa tried to clean me up. But I knew my paint issues would probably look bad on camera. So I knew my chances of getting picked for the trip weren't great.

I really wanted to go though and I thought it wouldn't hurt to ask. So I went to see Treesa in her room. Getting up the stairs was a trip on its own but Halle helped me and made sure I didn't get lost. Treesa was packing some last minute things and didn't notice me right away. "Treesa," I said. I tried to talk loudly enough that she would hear me but quietly enough that I wouldn't startle her. But Treesa must've been distracted because I ended up startling her anyway. "Annabelle,you scared me!" she said. I tried not to feel hurt when Treesa said it but ever since Halle told me where the name Annabelle came from I'd felt sort of bad about that. 

"Is there something I can do for you?" Treesa asked at the same time she was turning back to her open luggage. Treesa does try to keep her dolls happy and she knows we depend on her for a lot of things. I looked down nervously and said, "I was wondering if I could come to Virginia with you." Treesa seemed surprised. "I'm not sure," she said. But then she stopped. Maybe she didn't want to hurt my feelings. But I was pretty sure she really meant no and I tried not to feel hurt again. But this time I couldn't help it. "Is it because I'm scary looking?" I asked Treesa.

She turned around real fast and looked at me. "Who said you're scary looking?" she asked.

"You named me after a doll in a horror movie," I said. Treesa looked angry. "Who told you that?" she asked. I didn't want to get another doll in trouble so I didn't answer. But Treesa figured it out anyway. "It was Halle, wasn't it?" she said. "Seriously, that doll needs a new hobby. All she ever does is cause trouble."

Then Treesa took a deep breath. I guess she was trying to calm down. She bent down closer to me and said, "I named you Annabelle because you're an Anna doll, and I thought you should have an old-fashioned name, since you like history so much." I watched the look on Treesa's face change. It was like she was thinking over what she'd just said. "Maybe it would be a good idea to have you come along," she said.

When we got to Virginia the first place Treesa tried to take pictures was in front of the large photo prints hanging on the wall in the hotel room. But those photos didn't turn out. Treesa said there just wasn't enough light in the room to take good pictures. She tried using the flash but she said that washed everything out and reflected off the artwork. So we had to wait until we visited Treesa's sister on the farm where she's working and living before we could get any photos for the blog.

This first picture was taken at a rock garden that Treesa's sister and another farm worker set up. They named it Stump Rock Village. The other farm worker made a sign and everything.

Then Treesa's sister showed off where she was living and I was left there while Treesa and her sister and the other family members Treesa came on the trip with went out to dinner. There was a cat named Shera who belonged to the other farm worker but Shera was old and she stayed curled up on a cushion the whole time everyone was gone so she didn't bother me.

The next day Treesa's sister met up with the rest of the family to tour the Civil War battlefield at Manassas. Treesa's camera couldn't seem to focus on the field and me at the same time.

 

A lot of the trees there were blooming and looked really pretty. So Treesa held me up by one of the branches to take my picture.

Then Treesa took my picture in front of a wooden fence.

Treesa saw this spot where the fence was a little overgrown and said it was a good metaphor for war. She said during war the ground gets torn up and life gets turned upside down but when the war ends things start to grow back and life goes back to normal. And people forget.

Here's a photo of one of the Civil War monuments. Treesa doesn't remember exactly why she took this picture but she said she thinks it's because the gates gave her a cemetery vibe and were a reminder of just how many people died, on both sides.

The next day Treesa's sister took the family on a tour of a hiking trail that's on the farm property. The trail is mostly for guests who are staying at an inn that's also part of the farm.

Later Treesa's sister showed off the farm staff's vegetable garden. Here I am next to a small tomato plant.

Since everything growing in the garden was for the farm workers and not for sale Treesa and her family actually helped Treesa's sister pick some of the vegetables.

And that's about all there is to say honestly. It wasn't a long trip so there wasn't enough time to see any more historic places. But I'm glad I got to go even though most of the stuff we did was sort of outdoorsy and I'm not really that outdoorsy. Just being somewhere and knowing that before I was even made something important happened there sort of made me feel like I was part of history.

Respectfully Yours, Annabelle

(This was a popular type of closing for letters written in the 19th century.)

Odessa's Story: Continued (unidentified Disney Frozen Elsa by Mattel, redressed)

It was over the Christmas holiday, when Treesa was showing me off to her sisters, that I overheard from Treesa herself why she'd bought me. Basically she said that the 'juxtaposition' of a Frozen Elsa doll wearing a tropical print dress that almost perfectly matched the doll's eyes 'amused' her. I learned pretty quickly that Treesa likes 'specialized' words, as she calls them. And yes, Treesa was waiting for my tag color to go half price before she bought me.

Treesa's reasons for naming me Odessa should also give you an idea how Treesa's mind works. Because most people assume that Frozen is set in a fictionalized version of Norway, and because I'm wearing a summer dress, Treesa looked up who the summer deity is in Norse mythology. Apparently the name of the Norse god of summer is Od. So Treesa added Od to Elsa and got Odelsa. But Treesa didn't like the way that sounded. However Odessa was only one letter different, and Treesa knew that Odessa was the name of a foreign city. Treesa does sometimes make up names for her dolls, but she likes being able to use real words. Treesa also thought Odessa sounded pretty. So she named me Odessa.

Treesa's still trying to work on my hair. She said she's having trouble making sense of the different part lines. Treesa also said she's thinking about trying a 'Downey dunk' because she doesn't trust herself to do 'boil washes' anymore. She said the hair loses too much body when she tries to do boil washes.

I've met some of Treesa's other Frozen dolls. Elsa was very polite, and her sister Anna was ready to give me the cape off her back because she said I looked cold. Treesa was also worried about the same thing, but she couldn't find a jacket that looked good with my dress. Elsa and Anna's little brother Christian is adorable, and Sven the baby reindeer is very well-behaved. I know Treesa has at least one other Frozen doll, Christian's friend Nora. But I haven't met her yet. I've heard she's very shy.

Things have been going really well here at Treesa's house, and I'm very happy. I'll admit, after Treesa bought me and Halle told me how many other dolls Treesa had I was a little worried. I was worried how the other dolls would react to my damaged hand. The toys at the thrift store had felt sorry for me, because they thought that I wouldn't find a new owner. Now I had a new home, but I wasn't sure how Treesa's other dolls would treat me. Would they think they were better than me because I was damaged and they weren't? Or would seeing my damaged hand make them uncomfortable?

As it turned out Treesa has a number of other dolls with 'condition issues', as Suzanne calls them. Suzanne and her family have been with Treesa the longest, and Suzanne has some 'condition issues' herself, so she tries to help Treesa make sure that every doll in the collection feels welcome. Treesa also told me that if I'm really worried about making the other dolls uncomfortable with my damaged hand, she's found a seller on Etsy who makes gloves for various types of dolls, including modern 'Barbie' dolls. I didn't think gloves would work with a summer dress, but Treesa told me there was a time when it wasn't considered 'ladylike' for a woman to go out without gloves, and that a lot of vintage Barbie outfits came with gloves.

However, Treesa's other dolls have been so considerate and welcoming that I can't be sure if I need the gloves or not. I don't want to turn my damaged hand into an issue if none of the other dolls think it is. But I'm worried that seeing my hand might be making the other dolls uncomfortable, and that they just haven't said anything because they don't want to be rude. So I told Treesa that I'd think about the gloves, and let her know when I make a decision.

They say that a new year can be a time to start fresh, to make a new beginning. It certainly has been for me. I have a new home, new friends, and a new chance at life. I do realize just how close I came to being thrown away. My first owner, her parents, or the thrift store employees could all have decided that I was no longer worth anything with my damaged hand.  But luck was on my side, and I plan to make the most of this fresh start that the new year has given me.

Happy New Year to all, and to all a good night, Odessa

Sue's Story (redressed Pink Ribbon Barbie)

 

Fashion dolls, all toys really, are supposed to be flexible. And when I say flexible, I don't mean articulated. What I mean is that they should be able to adapt to changing situations. Playline dolls often end up playing different roles, becoming whatever their owner imagines, at least until playtime's over.

Collector dolls, on the other hand, aren't manufactured to be played with by children. They're produced for adults, with the expectation that they'll be left in their boxes or kept on display. Because of this, collector dolls tend to think differently than playline dolls. Where most playline dolls want to be played with, most collector dolls want to be left in peace, at least in the beginning. It's harder for collector dolls to feel lonely or bored because most of them are molded to enjoy solitude. Otherwise, those dolls left in their boxes or locked in glass cases would all lose their minds.

Geena already explained some of this in her post. The reason I'm mentioning it again is because I want all of you to understand why I have difficulty with change. I'm a collector doll, and like Geena I left the factory thinking that the life stretching out in front of me would unfold in a straight line. But I was about to reach a bend in the road. However, the path my life would take was slightly different from the one Geena experienced.

My first owner was an adult collector. She was what's known in collecting jargon as a 'deboxer'. Not only did she take her dolls out of their boxes, she apparently liked to redress and restyle them. After releasing me from my box, she left me lying on he desk for a few moments while she went to get something. My box had been left on the desk next to me, on its' side. That's when I first noticed that the words Susan G. Komen Foundation were printed on the front. 'Susan, that's a pretty name,' I thought. Then my owner came back, with another doll in her hand. The truth was, she had only bought me for my clothes. She stripped off my pale pink gown, carefully removing the small pink ribbon that was attached to the bodice. My long, satiny gloves came off next. I couldn't turn away, since that would have required moving in front of a human. So I was forced to watch as she dressed the other doll in my clothes. All I had left when she was finished was my sparkly tulle stole, which she tied around my neck like a scarf before she stuck me back in my box, shoved me into a closet and forgot about me.

For a long time I just stayed there in the dark closet, alone. Being alone didn't bother me as much, at first. It was quiet and peaceful in the closet. But the darkness could be unnerving. However, the thought of having to see anyone in my current state was even more upsetting. I knew how embarrassed and ashamed I would feel if another doll found me like this, wearing nothing but my stole. Some days I was so mortified from imagining it that I actually hoped I would never be found.

Not only that, but without my clothing I felt like I had lost my identity. Before then I'd known exactly who I was. I was Pink Ribbon Barbie. But because my owner had taken away my gown, with its' pink ribbon, I didn't feel I could call myself Pink Ribbon Barbie anymore. But if I wasn't Pink Ribbon Barbie, then who was I? This question kept surfacing in my mind, until one day I decided to give myself a new identity. I called myself Susan, inspired by the name that had been printed on my box. I began thinking about other ways to define myself, besides by what I wore. I started with the obvious things. I had blond hair. My eyes were blue. Then I started thinking about more abstract things: my likes and dislikes, my hopes, my dreams, what I would do if I ever did leave this closet.

Eventually, my first owner found me again. She must have been doing some spring cleaning. She pulled out my box, then looked at me for a moment. Years had passed, and the box was coated with a thin layer of dust. Not only that, but dust particles had even found their way into the box. My owner tossed me, box and all, into a cardboard carton with a bunch of odds and ends. The carton was put in the trunk of her car, then dropped off at a donation center. That was how I ended up at the thrift store. There, my dusty box was thrown away and I was put in a plastic bag.

Treesa couldn't identify me by sight, but she knew enough about Barbie dolls to recognize that I was a collector doll. After she bought me and brought me home she pulled out a large reference book on Barbie collector dolls. By comparing my facepaint, my updo hairstyle and my stole to photographs in the book, Treesa was able to identify me.

Treesa wiped away the dust and pieced together an outfit for me. She let me keep my stole as part of my new ensemble. Then she left me in her room to meet her other dolls. After spending so much time alone in a closet I wasn't prepared for the chaotic scene that followed, as more and more dolls seemed to materialize out of the woodwork to welcome me. But I was greeted warmly, which did a lot to calm my nerves.

By the time Treesa came back to the room, later that evening, I had learned from the other dolls that Treesa knew we were alive. When she saw me, Treesa smiled and said, "You're going to need a name."

"I have a name," I said quickly. Treesa looked slightly surprised. I don't know if it was the fact that I already had a name that surprised her, or if she was surprised that I was willing to talk to her so soon after she brought me home. Not speaking in front of humans is a deeply ingrained behavior for dolls, and I later learned that it often took time for a new doll to trust Treesa enough to actually respond to her.

Treesa's surprise carried over into her voice as she said, "Oh, really?"

"Yes," I told her firmly. Treesa said, "Oh, ok. What is it?"

"Susan," I answered. Treesa frowned. "I already have a doll named Suzanne," she said. "Having another doll named Susan would just get confusing. We'll have to think of something else for you."

"My name is Susan," I said, getting upset. "It was printed on my box: The Susan G. Komen Foundation. Why do I have to change my name? And why doesn't Suzanne have to change hers?"

"Suzanne was my first Barbie doll," Treesa said, also sounding upset. "I've had her since I was a kid! She has a husband, and kids. I'm not going to ask her to change her name now!"

At the time I felt that Treesa was being unreasonable. After all, did it really matter if two of her dolls had similar names? Would it really cause that much confusion? However, looking back now, I think I was being equally unreasonable. It shouldn't have mattered so much what Treesa called me. I should have been secure enough in my identity to know who I was without having to have a particular name. But that wasn't how I felt. Because I'd chosen the name Susan myself, I felt as though my stole and my name were the only things I had left that were really mine. I felt as though Treesa was trying to rip away everything that made me...me.

"How about we compromise," Treesa suggested. "Would it be ok if we shortened your name to Sue?" I thought it over. If my name was just shortened, instead of changed, then maybe it would be easier for me to cope with. Also, Treesa obviously respected me enough to try and work with me. Respecting her in return by meeting her halfway was probably the right thing to do. "Alright," I said finally.

Adjusting to life in Treesa's collection was a challenge for me. My social skills had definitely suffered from the time I'd spent in isolation, and I hadn't had much of an opportunity to use them before my confinement either. Not only that, but I still had the mentality of a collector doll. Collector dolls are most comfortable when they're in a stable environment. They like things to stay the same, and if circumstances change too quickly or too drastically it can sometimes be frightening for them. My life had changed to a degree where everything I'd become accustomed to, everything that had anchored me, was gone. It was as though after spending my life in the darkness of a closet, the sunlight seemed almost too bright, too blinding. My constant solitude had been replaced by the near constant presence of others. I felt overwhelmed, confused, lost.

I think that may be why I bonded so quickly with Geena. Geena knew how it felt to be faced with something that completely changed the course of your life. Twice she had had to reevaluate her place in the world, once when she was given to a child to play with after being designed as an adult collectable, and once when she had had to adjust to a new home after Treesa bought her second-hand. I'm grateful that Geena chose to share her experiences with me. Though we've never discussed it, Geena's words and actions have been like those of a sister, and I've learned a lot from her. I've learned that it's ok to be afraid of change, as long as you don't let that fear control your life. I've learned that any change can be an opportunity for a new beginning, and that having to start over can be a good thing. But the most important thing that Geena did for me was make me believe that feeling overwhelmed, and even afraid, in this situation was normal. People, and dolls, fear the unknown, and the future is one of those great unknowns. No matter how much planning and preparation you do ahead of time, you never really know what will happen tomorrow.

Sue and Geena

Geena said that she wrote her post for Treesa's blog in an attempt to deal with some of her unresolved fears. She said that while it wasn't a miracle cure, it was helpful. So I've followed Geena's example and am posting my story here. Hopefully, I will be able to adjust to my new life as well as Geena has. Only time will tell.

A Doll Named Sue

Ken's Story (Sun Gold Malibu Ken)

 

I managed to talk Suzanne into letting me read her post a while back. She asked me not to read it when she first posted it. I think she was a little embarrassed of some of the things she wrote. I could have gone ahead and read it anyway I guess. But a good marriage is built on trust. So I waited until I had Suzanne's permission. When I joked that the post was on the internet where total strangers could read it but she wouldn't let her own husband read it Suzanne gave in.

 

Even though we've been married for almost 30 years some of the stuff Suzanne wrote still surprised me a little. Suzanne's told me before that she fell in love with me the first time I smiled at her. But I don't think I really believed it until I read her post. The way she describes how we first met...she couldn't write stuff like that unless she actually FELT it!

 

But I guess I shouldn't be THAT surprised. I knew the moment I saw Suzanne that I wanted to get to know her better. She was the most beautiful doll I'd ever seen! She still is, even though we've both gotten just a little worse for wear over the years. Humans get grey hair and wrinkles when they get older. So I guess it's only fair we're showing our age. I won't go into details here. I don't want to embarrass my wife. Suzanne gets a little self-conscious sometimes about her so called 'condition issues'. If you ask me there's nothing seriously wrong with her. But even if there was I'd still love her. After all, our daughter Skipper has much more serious 'condition issues' and we wouldn't trade her for anything.

 

I know a lot of humans don't see getting married and raising kids as a dream life. But I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing than showing the three dolls I care about the most just how much I love them. Every day I try to let my wife and daughters know just how special they are to me. I try to be there for them no matter what. And when the going gets tough their love and support help keep me going.

 

People say there's strength in numbers and I think they're right. I think me and Suzanne and Skipper and Taffy are stronger together as a family than we would be by ourselves. I think it's because we've learned to work together. We try to do what's best for all of us instead of just what we want for ourselves.

 

Well, I have to go. Because of Skipper's 'condition issues' Treesa got it into her head that Skipper needs a service dog. So me and Suzanne promised to help Skipper and Treesa sort through Treesa's sixth-scale animals to see if we can find a dog that would be a good match for Skipper.

 

Bye, Ken



Geena's Story (redressed Generations Of Dreams Barbie)

When Treesa first proposed the idea of creating a blog for us, her doll collection, I immediately knew that I wanted to be involved. I felt that writing about my past experiences would be therapeutic; since Treesa is actually my second human...owner (for lack of a better word) and I came to her with a lot of emotional baggage. You see, being a Generations Of Dreams Barbie doll, I always knew that I had been manufactured for adult collectors. I left the factory fully expecting that I would either remain in my box forever, or that I would be displayed on a shelf or in a curio cabinet. While some might see this as a sad, lonely existence, for many collector dolls it is seen as the ideal situation. Our mentality is often such that we not only want to remain in untouched mint condition; we actually pity those dolls that are subjected to the rigors of children's playtime. Those same playline dolls often pity us collector dolls for the lack of freedom that comes with being 'imprisoned' in cardboard or behind glass, but that as they say is another story.

It never even occurred to me that 'I' might end up in the hands of a child. I had assumed that my fifty dollar retail price would discourage any parent from purchasing me for their youngster as a plaything. I have learned since then to never assume anything. To go from being a display piece to a child's toy is a difficult transition, both mentally and physically. I was still in the process of making that transition when I was unexpectedly donated, given away because I was no longer wanted.

I found myself at a thrift store, stuffed in a clear plastic bag with a $2.90 price tag. My hair was a matted mess. My bodice was missing a snap and my skirt was stained with marker ink and smeared with glitter glue. Dozens of other bagged dolls, many of them nude, were hanging on the nearby shelf pegs. As I peered out at my surroundings I tried not to think about who would buy me or where I would end up next. Those thoughts were too frightening in their uncertainty to contemplate. You see, it wasn't my matted hair or my stained skirt that bothered me the most. It was losing any sense of stability. When I first left the factory I was sure that I knew exactly what my future held. But life is full of the unexpected, curves and bumps in the road that can't always be anticipated or prepared for. I was adrift with nothing left to anchor me, nothing left to hold on to.

That's when Treesa found me. She picked up my bag, studied me carefully, and then hung me back on the peg. I thought that that was the last I would see of her. But before she left the store she came back, picked me up again, and took me with her to the register. She told me later that she liked the fabric that was used for my skirt, and that she just couldn't pass me up.

My life with Treesa has been mostly uneventful, which is a welcome change from my previous situation. I've met some interesting dolls in the collection, and Treesa has done her best to make me feel at home. The application of a fine toothed comb has greatly improved my hair, though of course it couldn't work miracles. I've also been redressed until the snap on my issue clothing can be repaired. That could take time, since Treesa hasn't yet learned how to sew. She is also unsure if anything can be done about the glitter glue or the ink stains, but the worst of the damage is located near the back of the skirt where it's less noticeable.

Because my outfit was already damaged, Treesa decided that she could make her own small 'alteration' with a clear conscience. If I had been in mint condition, I'm sure she wouldn't have had the nerve to do it. She would have felt too guilty about ruining my secondary market value. But after taking my bedraggled state into consideration, Treesa made up her mind to remove the decorative patch from the top of my bodice. Apparently she didn't like the way it looked. The patch wasn't sewn all the way around; it was merely tacked on with thread in a few places. The strategic use of a seam ripper soon took care of that. Treesa plans to keep the patch and have me use it as a decorative handkerchief.

The name Geena was chosen for me both as an homage to actress Geena Davis and as a corrupted abbreviation of the word 'generations', as in Generations Of Dreams Barbie. These sorts of tenuous mental associations are not at all unusual for Treesa, whether she's naming a fashion doll or an original character for her latest fanfiction story. However, not all of the dolls in the collection have names with hidden meaning. Suzanne is named Suzanne simply because she 'looked like a Suzanne'. At least, that's what Suzanne says. It's not that I think she would lie about something so trivial, but the fact that Treesa has an aunt named Susan may have also been an influence. Or as they say it could be entirely coincidental.

I would say that we've come to the end of my story, but my life now feels less like an ending and more like a new beginning. And while I can't say that writing out this narrative has brought me complete peace of mind, I do feel as though I've been able to leave a little more of my fear and uncertainty behind. To anyone out there reading this, thank you for listening.

Sincerely, Geena



Suzanne's Story (Sun Gold Malibu Barbie)

I guess it made sense to start with me. Treesa said it wouldn't feel right starting with anyone else because I was her first Barbie doll. I don't think my memories are all that special. I'll bet there are hundreds of dolls out there with almost the same stories. But I could see how excited Treesa was about the blog and I didn't want to rain on her parade so here I am.

 

I guess I'll start with the day I got taken out of my box. There were three of us that got deboxed that day. There was me, Sun Gold Malibu Ken, and Sun Gold Malibu Skipper. We were dressed in bathing suits and I remember Treesa laying us out on the rust colored carpet in the living room and pretending we were at the beach. I know this doesn't sound very exciting but for me it was nerve wracking. I had only seen humans before through the clear window of my box. When I got taken out of my box and given to Treesa I wasn't sure what to expect. But Treesa was such a happy little girl then and seeing her smile made me feel a lot less nervous.

 

Then she put Ken and Skipper on the floor next to me and I felt nervous all over again. I knew that sooner or later Treesa would leave the three of us alone and I'd have to introduce myself. I was really shy and self conscious and I'd never seen a doll as handsome as Ken up close before. The whole time Treesa was playing with us I was trying to think of something to say. I was so worried I would say the wrong thing that by the time Treesa left the room I was a nervous wreck. I think I kind of froze up. But then Ken turned to me and smiled.

"Hi," he said.

 

Seeing him smile at me like that had sort of the same effect that seeing Treesa smile had had only better. Not only did I not feel nervous anymore but because Ken had smiled at me the whole world suddenly seemed brighter and happier and more wonderful. I felt like I was floating. It took me a minute to realize Ken was still talking. Before I could bring myself back to reality Ken stopped talking and looked at me like he was waiting for me to say something. I realized he must have asked me a question but I had no idea what he had just asked me. I was so embarrassed I didn't know what to do. I didn't want Ken to think I was ignoring him on purpose but I didn't want him to think I was a ditzy airhead who couldn't pay attention either. I wished I could disappear through the floor but I couldn't. So I mumbled an apology and asked Ken to repeat the question. I was so worried he would be offended. But Ken just smiled again and said Treesa seemed like a nice little girl and what did I think of her. I felt so relieved after that.

 

Skipper turned out to be even shyer than I was but Ken made sure she wasn't left out. Little by little he managed to draw her into the conversation. It will always amaze me how the three of us started the day as strangers and ended up more like a family. I know Skipper is supposed to be my little sister but she's always felt more like a daughter to me. I've always tried to take care of her and protect her as much as I could.

 

We're relieved Treesa decided to keep us when she grew up and we're grateful we're still in good condition over all. My friend Roxanne wasn't so lucky. Roxanne was a Loving You Giftset Barbie and the second Barbie doll Treesa got. I'll admit I was a little jealous of Roxanne at first. She seemed so much prettier and more glamorous than me but over the years we became real friends.

 

Sometime in the late 80s Roxanne got a crack in her neck. The crack kept getting worse until finally her head came off. Treesa didn't know much about body swapping so she tried putting Roxanne's head on a dollar store doll body. But the dollar store doll had a much larger neck knob and it split Roxanne's head at her chin. There was no way to save her after that.

 

Roxanne has been gone a long time now. Thinking about her doesn't hurt as much as it used to but sometimes I still miss her. Treesa still has Roxanne's original outfit so at least I have something to remember her by. And I know Roxanne wouldn't want me to be unhappy. She'd want me to remember all the good times. So here are some of my happiest memories.

 

I remember when Treesa had me and Ken get married. Little girls love to play wedding and we didn't mind since we were practically married already. Treesa still has my wedding dress and the hat with the veil. Both my dress and Ken's suit were from the Romantic Wedding collection. Ken looked so handsome in that suit. Of course I always think Ken looks handsome and I was so happy that day I'm surprised I even noticed what he was wearing. When we stood side by side and he smiled at me I felt like the luckiest doll in the world.

 

Then there was that magical Christmas when our baby came, a beautiful baby girl with yellow molded pigtails. She was part of a babysitting set from Sears and she came with all the accessories a new mom could want. Treesa named her Taffy because the molding of her pigtails reminded Treesa of salt water taffy from the Jersey shore. Treesa loved going on family vacations to the beach when she was a little girl.

 

I think that covers all the big events in my life. I hope you enjoyed my story and I hope my writing wasn't too boring. I don't have a lot of writing experience and I said at the beginning my memories aren't all that special. But I made Treesa happy and that's the most important thing to me. It always makes me happy when I can make someone else happy.

 

Goodbye and enjoy the rest of your day.

From, Suzanne