i was watching abram and sofia tonight and sofia was in full-on barbie mode. we played and dressed up our barbies and i found myself feeling little green feelings toward ms. mattel. and then i felt totally baffled by even the idea that i was for a second jealous of a plastic doll that had been rescued from under a couch. her hair was ratty and she had whorey plastic make-up. but she's got a great body. her clothes always fit. she's got killer clothes. a bajillion friends. job skills like no one's business...seriously, who can pull off being a pilot and a vet? she's got cars and boyfriends and kids and everything enviable.
and then i remembered. she's not alive. i am. i live and breathe and think and emote. i love and laugh and bitch and date. barbie's got a dream life, because it's made up.
it's so crazy, the things we compare ourselves to. to anorexic models who strain as they paint smiles and features of contentment on their faces. to pictures in magazines that rarely show truth. to flipping barbie dolls.
think of the person you think you would be if you were perfect and thin, how that person would act. how would she treat people around her? how would she treat herself?
now imagine yourself as a woman whose beauty and body are made up of her best and worst qualities. her quirks. her inconsistencies. her complexities.
are they the same person? can we be happy being the women we are?
i think we can. i encourage you to try.