By semi-popular demand, I am now addressing the….umm… Barbie confession. In case you didn’t catch the 16th item in “Lisa 101,” my very first blog entry ever, here it is again:

My Barbies lived through precarious times. I used to strip off all their clothes, tie their hands and feet, and then stash them somewhere dark and scary, often leaving them there for months. I never did that with Skipper, though. Only the grown-up Barbies.

That item caught a friend’s attention, who asked, “Was this your way to say that only a consenting adult would be allowed in such play?”

You know, I wasn’t old enough to know what a consenting adult was, so….no, I don’t think that was it at all. I stripped Skipper’s clothes off too, but never tied her up or hid her in dark places. And the clothes thing wasn’t sexual — I just didn’t like clothes or shoes, so I figured Skipper wouldn’t, either.

(Freaky flashback sidebar: When I was about 6 or 7, playing in my backyard with only distant farm animals as witnesses, I stripped off all my clothes to see if my dog Bingo would look at me funny. He did.)

As a child, I hated — I mean HATED with a pure, clean, blue-hot heat — being told what to do. And it seemed like anyone bigger or older than me considered it an inalienable right to boss me around. They were able to do this to their black, unbelievably self-centered hearts’ content without fear of punishment or retribution of any kind. I seethed. Well, I’m exaggerating a teeny bit — I actually led a somewhat idyllic life back then, compared to some — but at times I did become brooding and rebellious. When I fought authority, authority always won. Dammit.

Perhaps my passive-aggressive way to get back at them was to take my adult Barbies and make them as vulnerable as I felt, disabling their ability to move, speak, see….

I dunno. That’s my best guess.

That explanation doesn’t involve sex, though, so it is no fun at all. This is much better:

In a previous life I was a beautiful impoverished maiden who was forced into the sex trade by a dastardly, depraved sovereign. I had to perform well in order to ensure that my little sister, Skipperophelia, would be allowed to live comfortably as a lady-in-waiting to the king’s second wife. I performed so well that I became the most renowned dominatrix in the land…..and, of course, I learned to love my work. I loved it so much that it made a permanant imprint upon my soul which MUST be manifested somehow within each of my lives.

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