"Fat Barbie:" A Life of Ridicule and Bad Fashion

There is nothing like putting on a few pounds to make the world take notice. Case in point: “Fat Barbie.” Mattel’s reveal of its new, decidedly more politically correct Barbie dolls last week sent the media into an all out frenzy. The new additions to the iconic doll line include Petite Barbie, Tall Barbie and Curvy Barbie—who didn’t make it five minutes before she was predictably dubbed “Fat Barbie.”

Adding insult to already ridiculous injury.

Adding insult to already ridiculous injury.

It was bound to happen sooner or later. In the space between a culture obsessed with physical appearance and a society attempting to make progress on the sensitive topic of young children and body image, something as iconic and stereotypical as Barbie had to make a change. And change she did. While Petite Barbie and Tall Barbie remain as slender as ever, Curvy Barbie went from Barbie’s classic size 0 to a size 10 (that late night pizza will do it every time). Given that the average American woman is a size 14, that puts “Fat Barbie” well under the benchmark of what we would commonly interpret as fat, and significantly underweight when compared to the majority of women in the country.

And I know how much we all love to be compared to the majority of women in the country.

But what I find most ridiculous about the images of “Fat Barbie”—yes, I should be calling her Curvy Barbie having just debunked her “fatness,” but “Fat Barbie” is so much more amusing and I need this—is not her average looking size, but the fact that Mattel has given her a variety of outfit options that make her look like a middle-aged mall-goer desperately clinging to some far-off, overly suggestive idea of fashion relevancy.

All of “Fat Barbie’s” skirts are short, her tops are generally tight and her shoe options trend toward the platform variety. She can have blue hair and even sport a mesh mini-dress with a back leather baseball cap if you like. Mattel describes “Fat Barbie’s” style options as looks, “from casually cool to boho bold,” adding that the fashions are, “inspired by the latest trends!” I can hear Anna Wintour howling from here.

Take the “Fat Barbie” pictured above. She is the “Everyday Chic” model, decked out in what Mattel muses is, “a cool red and white striped tank with bow graphic and trendy denim capris.” In reality, “Everyday Chic Fat Barbie” is clinging to life in her purposely worn-in, too short to be flattering capri jeans, her passé blonde blowout, an impractical white wristlet and a tank top adorned with a bow that looks like it may eat her boobs in the next five minutes. What’s next—jeggings, a big white “sport watch” and knockoff Tory Burch logo flats?

“Fat Barbie” does, however, have options like thick, black nerd glasses, because apparently even Barbie is a hipster, and wedge sneakers. Thank you, Isabel Marant.

Yet, it’s still only the skinny Barbies that have more flattering wardrobe options like ankle-length pants, pencil skirts that hit below the knee, tailored tops and little jackets, appropriately taking her from day to steamy night on the town with Ken. These svelte ladies can also change into sensible yoga pants, carry convenient top handle bags and sport modern hairdos like the “lob” and a topknot.

Still no $1000 fur mules though.

It seems that just as Barbie has attempted to move forward and embrace more broad definitions of body image, she is still being held down by how she is allowed to outfit herself. And if the worry is that young girls are getting unrealistic expectations by playing with skinny Barbie, how are they to picture themselves alongside Curvy Barbie and her mini skirt? I’d like to propose that all Barbies have the option to wear more realistic clothing and get away from the need to be “on trend,” a term that is obviously subject to interpretation.

Jeans and a T-Shirt Barbie, Belted Shirt Dress Barbie, Power Suit Barbie, Pajama Chic Barbie, Caftan Queen Barbie; there’s nothing Barbies of any size can’t wear if they put their minds to it. Just like there’s nothing girls of any age can’t and won’t wear if they so desire. So let’s give them realistic options to desire and save the world another teenager clad in a mesh dress.

Now that we have that settled, Ken is looking seriously metrosexual these days.

Unprepared for Christmas? But of course.

He’s ready. Are you?

He’s ready. Are you?

 

Why is it that every year Christmas seems to come out of nowhere? It’s embedded in your calendar. You know that it happens every year, on the same day, just like it always has. It goes on all over the planet and, let’s be honest, it’s been screaming for your attention since July, yelling louder than any other freaking holiday known to man.

Yet somehow, come the 20th of December, I always feel like I’m getting kicked in the ass by Santa once again.

Am I unprepared for Christmas? Yes. Or, as my beloved Magic 8 Ball would say, “It is decidedly so.” With roughly five days until Christmas Eve, I have left every shred of holiday preparation undone. Nothing succeeds like procrastination and no one profits from our lack of holiday readiness like the retail giants that are there to inhale every dollar you can throw at your glorious tardiness. In fact, retailers are now banking on people like me (if they only knew…), targeting last minute consumers by hyping up their speedy shipping methods, inventing last minute sales strategies and doing everything they can to ensure two things: you get your holiday packages on time, and you spend your hard earned desperation cash with them.

This weekend will bring what is now being called, “Panic Saturday.” No, sadly it doesn’t refer to the hazy Widespread shows of yesteryear, but the last Saturday before Christmas when the present buying “panic” is in full bloom. British retailers alone are estimating that the hoards of crazed last minute consumers will spend 2.1 million pounds per minute tomorrow (right about now, I’d say something like, “Imagine the impact that 2.1 million pounds a minute could have on the world,” but it’s a subject so obscene, and the moral deficit so vast, I can’t begin to touch it with my ridiculousness.). That figure alone is panic inducing. According to retailmenot.com, fifty-six percent of shoppers will still be hitting the stores in the coming days and 1 in 5 people haven’t even begun to shop. So, not only am I not alone, I will be greatly out numbered this weekend and I’m guessing they’ll all be carrying some stinky holiday spiced latte to add a festive smell to my sensory experience of being one with humanity.

Amazon, Wal-Mart, Macy’s; judging from their advertisements, they all seem to be willing to lay down in the street and let me roll right over them in the taxi cab I’ll be rushing around in trying to find the ridiculous holiday odds and ends I can’t get shipped to me—Frankincense, Mirth, mistletoe-tinis—so long as they get my business. And why not, they’ve been at this since September. Retailers now begin saturating the market with Christmas décor, holiday products and theme sales so early that, by the week before Christmas, those of us who still don’t have our shit together might as well have a target on our backs. Which, incidentally, is Target’s wet dream.  

Perhaps therein lies the source of my holiday unpreparedness. I begin to mentally zone out as soon as I see the first packages of tinsel and holiday cards on the shelves at the drugstore after Labor Day, the weather not even remotely cold, the leaves on the trees still mostly green, my attitude as ridiculous as ever. By the time the Christmas music starts penetrating the pores of every location in the city—before the Thanksgiving bird is even out of the oven I might add—I’m numb to it. And I remain numb to it like a lamb to the retail slaughter, wandering the streets in a haze of Christmas ignorance (or is it bliss?) for several months, able to pretty much totally block the rising tide of holiday cheer right up until just about now, when it hits me. Oh shit, next week is Christmas.

The retailers of the world and their multi-million dollar advertising machines know their customers. They have me pegged every February 13, July 3rd, October 30th and day before Thanksgiving when I exhibit the same need to throw money into the black hole of last minute holiday preparation that I do before Christmas, only on a much more ridiculous level. Dollar bills, y’all. Dollar, dollar bills. The retail giants start early and don’t let up because they know they’ll get us in the end.

Yes, when push comes to shove, I’m lying in the gutter obsessively tracking packages on my phone with nothing to cling to but my festive, nondenominational wrapping paper. But guess who forgot to buy tape?

Sorry, I didn’t have time to wrap your present, Jesus. It’s a Chia Pet.