Come on, Barbie, Let’s Go Horrify Small Innocent Children

UPDATE: Barbie no more. Below is the reason why.

The other day I mentioned that I am ramping down my sugar intake. I did not tell you why, although the reason is kind of obvious (for fun!)

Actually, I need to fit into a dress.

Barbie’s dress.

I still have a bagful of my favorites around here somewhere. Happy Birthday Barbie’s, I’m thinking, and Diana Ross Barbie’s sparkly red gown, and the one the Peaches ‘n Cream Barbie arrived in, complete with sherbet-colored organza boa. My plan is to one day become rich enough so that I can take the tiny little garment to a seamstress and say “See this? I want one of these. Only, slightly larger.”

Once I was married, I thought my size-body-to-clothing days were over, but no. This Barbie’s dress is a six. I am not, at the moment, a size six. I am a size four to twelve, depending on the cut of the clothing item, ab suckage, and the time of the month.

See, I belong to a marketing group which places people for public speaking, education, and marketing jobs, and last month there was a call for Caucasian women with blonde hair who appear in their early twenties.

First of all, this is quite possibly the first time anyone has ever wanted me to be pale. Secondly, it is a long-butt time since I’ve been carded. And third of all, how incredibly racist and lookist and sexist and oh look, it pays a hundred dollars.

The position is sponsored by a charity called Barbie Cares, and what happens is, little girls line up at their local Wal-Mart clutching their used Barbie dolls to donate. In exchange, they receive a Bag O’ Assorted Plastic Crap, and also a wave-smile, wave-smile from me in a purple dress that, from the looks of it, was last seen wadded up in a corner of Liberace’s closet, rejected as “too out there.” Anything for The Children, and also one hundred dollars.

When my profile was approved for the call, I felt extremely smug about myself (early 20′s, that’s an entire decade off !) until repeat calls were issued with increasing panic: “We’re offering travel reimbursement!” Then: “We now have a hair dye budget!” And now: “We will fly you in to stand in a Wal-Mart for four hours and collect snot germs!” I am thinking they’ll bust out Black Barbie and Polynesian Barbie and Heavily Tattooed Barbie after all.

November 8 at the Culpeper SuperCenter. Yes, you may come too, if I haven’t gotten into a kickfight with a seven-year-old first. Yes, somebody actually thought that placing me in a Wal-Mart in close contact with many small children at once is a good idea. Yes, my dressing room is probably to the left of the Home and Garden Center, right around the corner from the gerbil food. Yes, I am immensely underqualified for this position.

taking the string-powered townhouse elevator at: mbe@drinktothelasses.com

tip the bartender