A doll's life

I got my Barbie holiday gift guide in the mail today. OK, I'm out of the closet (or out of the black patent leather case, so to speak). I am absolutely fascinated with Barbie. You're thinking, "A feminist who digs Barbie?" Yes. Big boobs, high heels and all.

I don't want to get overly sociological here. But as I page through this catalog I am curious about my own reaction to a black, snug-fitting t-shirt with a picture of classic ponytail Barbie on the chest. Why do I want that shirt? It would look great with jeans. But it's a ludicrous $42! What's my deal?

On some level, I think it has something to do with always wanting to have Barbie's life. Aside from sporting the latest styles, Barbie was anything you wanted her to be. When I was a little girl, my Barbie traveled, dated, shopped and had coffee with her friends. If I assigned her an occupation, it was usually teacher. Not a bad existence, right? Well, if you change teacher to life coach, I am sort of living it.

How's that for making fantasy into reality?

Hmmmmm. I could swear my Barbie also wrote a few books and made a ton of money ...