The Sex Life of Barbies

My barbies were always naked. No, really. To find my barbies with clothing was a rarity.

My barbies liked to party in their birthday suits, and did not in any way believe in the idea of not having to take your clothes off to have a good time. They knew that partying naked was the BEST TIME.

And, sure - you can laugh it off, like "Oh, ha! Curious little weirdo child, experimenting and exploring with naked barbies!" But it wasn't that innocent. Because my naked barbies were always doing the deed, boning, bumpin' uglies, P in V - whatever you want to call it, my barbies were always having SEX.

emma's thing

How I knew to make them engage in frequent and unbridled intercourse is a mystery to me. I grew up in the '90s - a decade that sang songs about ponies jumping on it, unprotected teenagers contracting HIV when they should've been sticking to the rivers and the lakes they were used to, and one classic melody that just straight up was all like "LET'S TALK ABOUT SEX." On top of all that, MTV Spring Break took over our televisions and fragile and suggestible little minds every March/April, flashing images of girls covered in whipped cream, shiny navel rings, and hard nipples before our unbelieving eyes.

Cable really should've gotten on top of parental control devices sooner, huh?

The '90s was a highly sexualized decade. Of course, every decade is highly sexualized because sex is never not interesting or intriguing. Be it MTV, crass sexual humor in movies like Austin Power's gun-boobs and "ALotta Fagina," or the soft core porno I would accidentally come across on late night HBO when my parents were out enjoying an adult dinner, my unassuming mind was being over-sexualized without me even realizing it (the one time I did sit there and gawk at soft core porn, I waited for my parents to return home from their night out, stunned and shaking. Sobbing, I explained to them what I had seen: "There were two women and only ONE man, and their boobs were everywhere and he put them in his mouth!" I heaved uncontrollably).

But as creepy as it is to think about all of the above and how it maybe explains the person I am today, one of my best childhood stories is birthed from my Barbies' nakedness.

My dad had HAD IT. He was sick and tired of finding his youngest daughter playing gaily with her fully exposed Barbie dolls (I guess I was caught in the act more than once - moments I clearly blocked out with serious tenacity). Finally, he made a threat:

"If I find your Barbies naked one more time, I will take them away from you. Do you understand?"

What is it about kids and pushing the red button when you're told to not push the red button? Is it because, like dogs, we crave discipline? Do we instinctively hope to be caught as to teach ourselves important learn life lessons? Or are all kids really that weird?

With total defiance and tunnel-vision focus, I made sure to not only get my Barbies naked the very next day, but plant them and myself as close to my father as possible. I took my boy and girl dolls, wrapped them tightly in a memorable purple hoody that seemed to always be laying around for the coldest kid in the room, and shimmied to the very end of the computer room couch, where my dad was working on the 800-pound family desktop. My Barbies' heads were the only visible part of their bodies, poking out of the hoody just so.

"Are they... are they naked under there?" My dad asked, knowing.

"No!" A bold face LIE! But why? I wanted to get caught, that's why I had planted myself where I planted myself. What a twisted child.

"Yes they are," he demanded while swiping the hoody and dolls from my chubby, sweaty hands (some things never change).

And he wasn't bluffing. He took them away. Probably just for the day, but regardless - I cried and probably screamed and, if my vocabulary had been more extensive at such a young age, I'm sure I would've told my father he would rue the day he took away my naked Barbies. Instead, I can assume I was all "I HATE YOUUUUU!"

And that, my friends, is how I learned about human anatomy and the undeniable, disturbing, incessant need we all have to experiment heavily with nakedness.

The end.