Wordful Wednesday: The Complete Package?

The following 453-word post was composed as part of the Random Complexity Writing Challenge. Enjoy!

As she enters middle age, I have a confession to make. I wanted to like Barbie. I really did. But Ken's sexuality got in the way.

My older cousin had the whole collection: well, at least what was available at the time. Barbie. Her boyfriend, Ken. A Barbie Jeep. And, of course, a Barbie Doll House. Oh, how I coveted that doll house!

When my Cuz would come over to play, we'd play "Barbie." But I never really got to actually play with Barbie. Or Ken. I was always relegated to "taking care of the house," or "driving the Jeep."

We were middle class, but my SAHM didn't earn a paycheck. So that meant No New Barbies for me. I would have to wait.

I come from a "hand-me-down" culture. When Cuz grew out of her party dresses, they went to me. When she tired of her toys, same thing. And with the four-year gulf between us, I just knew it was only a matter of time before Barbie and Ken~and all their cool accessories~would be mine.

My dreams came true sooner, rather than later. Cuz had just hit middle school, and hormones had just hit her. I was only 8 years old; I only had eyes for Barbie and Ken.

Until they arrived at my house, that is.

Growing up in a family of all girls (except for my Dad and the cat, of course), I was curious. I gathered up Barbie and Ken and all the paraphernalia that my Aunt had just dropped off at our house and I headed for the privacy of my bedroom. I'm a modest person. I figured Ken would be, too.

I decided that Barbie wanted to take Ken and the Jeep and go on a picnic. So I changed her into more casual attire. Ken, who was wearing slacks and a nice shirt, probably wanted to get more comfortable, too.

I peeled off Ken's nylon shirt, his slacks. Then I peeked in his briefs. Ken, you might say, was not the complete package. In fact, he had no package at all.

Ken changed into his picnicwear. He and Barbie and I took the Jeep for a spin in the backyard. My neighbor, Peter, was playing on the tire swing. That seemed a lot more fun than scooting plastic dolls around in the crabgrass and making up faux picnic dialogue.

I left Barbie and Ken under the apple tree. The rain came down in buckets that night. The rest, as they say, is history.

Every time I'm in a toy store, I swing by the Barbie aisle. I made eye contact with Ken the other day. I thought I saw him wink. I, of course, blushed.

Participating in Angie's Wordful Wednesday...please look her up!