I was strolling through Ang Mo Kio Hub’s Fairprice grocery store when I came across a shelf of Barbie dolls.
It was all I could do to buy one… for myself! Barbie dolls were my favorite toys as a child. And they particularly symbolize Christmas to me because I got all of mine on this occasion.
That’s me and my brother Ivan with all of my dolls, no Barbies yet, if you’ll look closer. On the left is the moving and music-playing Santa that we bust out every Christmas. We still have him at home until now. My dear brother actually played dolls with me till he wizened up that boys are not supposed to do so. To his credit, though, he only ever had action movie roles for my dolls to play. He even converted Aiza, one of my female dolls, to male by cutting her hair short and calling him Isaac (he or she is not in the picture). And he painted blood on my teddy bear Crojones’s face with red chalk. I got Crojones for my seventh birthday from my dad, so I must’ve been seven in this picture, since Crojones still looks relatively unmangled.
We are sitting on our family bedroom’s bed. My parents and the two of us shared one bedroom. There was just one king-sized bed and we couldn’t all fit in it, so two would sleep on the bed while two would sleep on mats on the floor, in alternating shifts. Then when I was in sixth grade or so, Dad had two single beds built for me and Ivan. I don’t know how those two managed to fit in one bedroom with the king-size and our study tables and stuff, but they did. There was even some space in the middle where my brother fell off his bed more than once that first night. Then when I was in second or third year high school, we got our own bedrooms. That first night, Ivan couldn’t sleep and kept on leaving his room and sitting on the stairs or in the living room. He was always the one who had problems adapting to change while I was ever the chameleon, flexible to the max.
That’s me during my 10th or 11th birthday, I’m not really sure. You will notice that I’m wearing the same non-smile smile that I had at the previous picture. Mom taught me to say “cheese” whenever I posed for the camera and I followed her literally. Look what happened. Thank goodness I wizened up.
You will also notice that my toy collection has changed since I was seven. Crojones (looking a little worse for wear) and Delight (the baby doll with her hair tied up) are still there, but everyone else has changed. I got a couple of my coveted Barbie dolls on the Christmas I was 8 and named them Annie and Rosie. Annie is the one with shoulder-length brown hair wearing the orange crocheted dress and leaning against Gus, the huge teddy bear. She was my favorite. Rosie has long curly blonde hair and wears a red crocheted dress while riding my stuffed dog Ruff-Ruff, who was my sleeping companion on my bed every night. I don’t remember the name of the white dog I had my arm around, but one day, probably the year after the Barbie Christmas episode, my Dad came home from Dipolog with her and Gus and Ruff-Ruff and gave them to me, saying that these were my advanced gifts for my birthday and Christmas and I don’t know what was the other occasion. Probably recognition day for my good grades. The baby doll near the white dog is named Lovely and she is exactly the same as Delight. I don’t remember when and why I got her. The panda over my shoulder is named Spotty and he was my pasalubong from Dad when he went to live in Japan for a month for a JICA program. I remember him asking me what I wanted and I said “a japanese doll” and this was what he came back with. Men! Well at least he could walk and sit up to eat bamboo leaves at a push of a button. My brother got a set of yellow binoculars, though it wasn’t quite according to his specifications. He wanted one that could “see through plants and trees and stuff.” Kids!
This is me after my elementary school graduation. I’m holding our poodle Pepsi (who doesn’t look too happy in the picture) and my most prized possesion – my collection of dolls – are propped against the organ that rarely got used because I’d rather play with my dolls than practice on it. Just the Christmas before this occasion, I met one of my godmothers for the first time since she was at my christening. She asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I said “a Barbie doll.” She gave me one that I named Kimberly, who had long wavy blonde hair, wore a shiny purple dress and had bent elbows. The more expensive Barbie dolls had bent elbows, I don’t know why. Turns out my parents had also sprung for another Barbie doll for me – I named her Samantha and she also had long glossy and wavy blonde locks and wore a pink minidress but had straight arms. Kim was my favorite. I don’t know if she influenced my love for the color purple. It wasn’t my original favorite color.
I only stopped playing with my dolls in the middle of high school. It was just too much fun to sew their clothes (out of old socks and underwear and other clothes I’d outgrown) and find small things to accessorize them with. I’d even screw off their head to drop a ring around their necks – their necklace. I’d pierce their ears with pins (the ones with the round heads) so they’d have earrings. I’d dig clay from the ground and fashion pots and pans then have them harden in the sun. And the blossoms from the Golden Rosary plants (which my mom called the Bridal Bouquet) were just perfect as mini bridal bouquets for my girls.
So really, I wouldn’t mind getting a Barbie Doll this Christmas. Nostalgia is priceless.