When I was a young girl I collected Barbies, and other trademarked dolls, usually representing a movie or television character, like Princess Leia, all three Charlie’s Angels, or Cher. I had boxes of clothing for them, a bright pink jeep and a lemon yellow motor home, and the ultimate “dream house” which had cut out holes in the roof for my hands to reach in, but no stairs or doors to any of the rooms. I had a few “men“, too, Ken with his “real” looking hair and smooth “boy mound“, and Han Solo who had painted on hair, and the outlines of a muscular frame, but still no “boy parts“. Continue reading You start all over again