The Kardashian Barbie

Recently, I've been subject to some very late nights (not the good kind, I assure you), a houseful of sick people and a couple of very selfish cats. In light of all things half completed, I've plagiarized my alterblogger-ego. I think I would have anyway; sick kids or not. This topic is pretty eye-opening. Enjoy (and please, share it forward!): 

The Kardashian Barbie Doll

I'm a recovering Barbie-addict. I played with them until I was like 16, and I still would if I didn't have all boys. I'm a little burnt out on trucks, pirates and Spiderman, so anytime we're at someone's house and they have little girls, I'll immediately wonder if they have Barbies. I even have a method:

• I'll make eye contact with the girl. Whether she's across the room or simply in the seat next to me, eye contact will be made. 
• I'll smile sweetly and gesture for her to come closer. 
• Once she's within my reach, I'll pull her closer and ask--without moving my lips, mind you, in case there's a mean older sister not minding her own business--if she has any Barbies. 

(Huh. I've never actually written it out before; it kind of reads like someone trying to score crack.)

That said, I have to say the prospect of a Kardashian Barbie Doll creeps me out. I don't care if it's the only doll in a sea of excavators and superheros, I won't touch it with a ten-foot pink brush. Sure, Barbie is no stranger to controversy. The Dallas Cowboys Barbie caught a lot of flack:

 
(But comparing a professional cheerleader to a sex tape goddess isn't even a logical argument.)

"Cher in Bob Mackie Barbie"


(Let's be honest: Bob Mackie gets away with stripper garb because he's Bob Mackie)

"Jazz Barbie"

(I've been to a jazz show on Broadway. Yes, they dress like this. And yes, like Barbie, they look like strippers.)

"Tramp Stamp Totally Tattoos Barbie"

(Much to my husband's dismay, I like tattoos. I even have a few. But there's no way I'd get near a Slag Tag.)

Regardless of how many poor choices the marketing team at Mattel has made, short of a "Playboy Barbie" line coming out, nothing tops the poor message that a Kardashian doll sends. Can you imagine the conversation?

Little Girl: "Mommy, who is Kim Kardashian?"
Mom: "Well, she and her sisters are on TV."
Girl: "Why?"
Mom, chewing lip uncomfortably: "Well, because they're famous."
Girl: "Are they singers?"
Mom: "No."
Girl: "Do they play sports?"
Mom: "Uh, nope."
Girl: "Do they dance?"
Mom: "Technically yes, but not in the way you're thinking."
Girl: "Well, why are they famous?"
Mom points across the street: "Look!  A firetruck!" 

Indeed, Kim's sex tape and the need to carry $10,000 handbags brought them much fame and wealth, but it's not the best message to send young, impressionable girls. Point is, do not buy the Kardashian doll.Send a message to Mattel. Or call them at             1-800-524-8697      . Let them know they can do better than this.


      

 I mean, come on. Her as a Barbie??? 

 

Egomaniacs and Reality TV

I recently read an article in LiveScience highlighting a new study in Cyberpsychology which details how fame is the #1 draw to kids (preteens and teens) when it comes to viewing choices. A key bullet of the study pointed out that the quest for fame, specifically in the age of Twitter and Facebook, lends to an inflated sense of being. Translation: Narcissism. 

Outside of Napoleon (or a toddler), I can’t think of a bigger narcissist than a teenager.    

And we owe a great deal of thanks for the enlarged egos to reality TV. It's no secret this genre of 'entertainment' (and I use that term loosely) has changed many a life. From the mob wives who had to endure raids, infidelity, beatings and jail-bound husbands in private, to the little girls pimped out by their pageant mothers, people had to actually live their lives in privacy! The housewives of America who used to have crow's feet and non-inflated lips...we now have women whose boobs are next to their earlobes and their faces are stuck in an “I think I just pooped my pants” expression. 

Then we have Snooki. I'll leave it at that. 

But today, let's talk about our teen moms. I don’t think there’s anyone on earth who could say with conviction that children raising children is a plus to our society. Let me make one thing clear: I give major props to these girls who didn’t take the easy way out and chose to have their babies. But shame on the media for glamorizing a life less ordinary, and shame on their greedy parents for allowing it. Our society has plummeted into a gutter of voyeurism where following people’s heartaches and struggles is something we need to validate our own lives. ("Well, at least my daughter isn't hooked on drugs and pregnant.")

Teen Mom  (MTV) led Tuesday night’s cable lineup as the Number 1 show.  A show packed with meaningless sex, suicide attempts, domestic battery, child neglect, drugs, alcohol…this was number 1? Why?

Could it be that all of these teen babies raising babies are now front and center on magazine covers? They have managers, publicists, stylists, and hordes of paparazzi. It’s no secret teenagers are narcissists anyway. They’re trying to figure out how they fit into the world (much like toddlers), and it’s a hard place to be. But (much like toddlers), they have very little sense and even less self-control. Perhaps bombarding them with images of poor decision-making being rewarded by lots of notoriety isn’t the wisest thing to do.