Marianne tagged me awhile back, and since my brain is mushy and exhausted, I will take this opportunity to be “it”…

I was a collector. I loved the disturbing images that grossed out the grown-ups and made me and my brother giggle. I liked the names most of all…Up Chuck…how much more original can you get, I ask you?!

My Real Baby was my favorite doll I ever had. Her head wobbled like a real baby, and she weighed as much as a real baby and I wanted her to be a real baby. I imagined that I found her in a garbage can in the alley like those horrific stories I would hear on the radio. And because I was so mature for my age (a very grown up ten years old to be exact) my parents let me keep her as my own daughter (seriously, why wasn’t I seeing a therapist?). I would carry her around the neighborhood and wonder if I was pulling it off…if people really believed that it was, in fact, a real baby. When I got too old for this game, I asked my mom to put her in the attic because I couldn’t bring myself to part with her…the picture above is what happened to her hair. It looks like I burned my baby in a fire. Child Protective Services were never notified, so I guess I wasn’t very convincing on my neighborhood walks…

We moved around a lot when my brother and I were growing up, and before every move we would have a garage sale. I was walking around the garage when I was about six looking at all the stuff that my mom was selling to strangers…all OUR STUFF! And my Weeble Treehouse was one of the things! I thought I was going to crumble up and disintegrate. She assured me that I wouldn’t even miss it, but tell me this, Mom! Why do I REMEMBER IT STILL?! I think you should buy me a Weebles treehouse while you’re out and about this week to redeem yourself.

Ah! The Strawberry Shortcake gang! In the first house I lived in, my parents threw me a birthday party, and I remember being in the basement/playroom with a LOT OF STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE DOLLS! They all smelled different and they had pretty hair I could brush and colorful outfits. ANd they each had their own little pet which was perfect because in my head everyone should have their own little pet. Afterall, we had dogs and a cat, and next door there were horses and cows, so wasn’t it normal for people to have purple hair and purple pets to MATCH?! Of course it was.

Blame it on Mattel. This is my dream: Dad, Mom, Brother and Sister. That’s what I knew at home, that’s what I had in my toy box, and that’s what I read on my bookshelf (Berenstein Bears, anyone?). There’s gotta be a mom and a dad and a brother and a sister. And if there are lots of brothers and sisters that’s okay too. The Heart Family got sold in the third or fourth garage sale because I wanted money to go roller skating with boys. I blame that on the eighties. And puberty.