Dear Barbie,
Ending a long-term relationship is never simple, and this farewell is particularly poignant. As I placed the Rubbermaid lid on your storage container, glimpsing your iconic blue eyes for the last time, I felt a wave of sadness. You will be truly missed.
Please don’t blame yourself for the conclusion of our nearly ten-year journey together. It’s not your fault, nor is it solely mine, despite my frequent complaints about your scattered outfits, the cluttered Dream House, and your Camper parked right in the middle of the basement. The truth is, our time for nurturing this relationship has simply dwindled amidst soccer practice, piano lessons, and horseback riding (the real kind, not the plastic version). We hardly even take baths together anymore, which used to be our cherished bonding time.
Let me clarify, this decision has nothing to do with your appearance, despite the scrutiny you’ve faced in recent years. I have friends in real life with impossibly tiny waists, stunning hair, and flawless complexions. These remarkable women run marathons, practice yoga, and even volunteer at schools and charities while supporting their friends in need. They embody strength and positivity, just like you.
I never expected you to serve as a body image role model for my children; that responsibility falls on me, and I believe I do a commendable job. Your true purpose was to ignite the imagination of my daughters, which you did with great success. You inspired them to operate a veterinary clinic, run a school, and manage a clothing store. You facilitated elaborate fashion shows, pool parties, and equestrian events. They played house, nurtured babies, and even staged weddings, while on other days, they performed surgeries, filled cavities, or piloted a plane to Disney. Those hours of creative play were invaluable.
And you never voiced a complaint. Not once. Not when you were strapped into a Corvette with Cinderella Barbie and launched down the staircase. Not when your hair suffered a disastrous cut that defied repair. Not even when an unfortunate incident with a visiting dog led to the loss of a foot. You were consistently there, ready to embrace any adventure with a smile.
Your journey has been challenging as well. You’ve experienced a public divorce, enlisted in the military, and faced media scrutiny. Even at 50, you continue to be compared to other dolls. Nevertheless, you maintained your dignity and resilience.
Regrettably, Barbie, there’s no turning back. Little girls inevitably grow up, and it’s time for us to part ways. I’ve already sold the Dream House (at a loss, unfortunately), listed the car, yacht, and airplane on Craigslist, and sent your friends—Skipper, the Disney Barbies, and those mysterious brunette dolls—to Goodwill, where I hope new families will cherish them. The Barbie jeep and scooter have also found new homes, allowing other little girls to enjoy them. This chapter is truly closed.
I want to take a moment to express my gratitude. Thank you for teaching my daughters that a ball gown can pair beautifully with cowboy boots. Thank you for embracing every story they crafted for you. Even though your outfits may be a bit revealing, your high heels might be impractical, and your makeup sometimes excessive, I appreciate that you represented whatever my children wanted to be for the day—be it a soccer player, a princess, a surfer, or a doctor. In hindsight, I’m relieved we avoided your drag queen phase, but I believe even that would have sparked joy.
Although you’re heading to the attic for a while, your memory will remain in our hearts. I hope that one day—if I’m fortunate—your presence will return when my daughters become mothers themselves. I will welcome you back with open arms, perhaps with a new environmentally friendly Dream House.
Because even though you are merely a doll, you have been so much more. You have been an ambassador of imagination and a catalyst for creativity in our home, and you have fulfilled your role admirably.
Goodbye, Barbie. Until we meet again.
Warm regards,
Charlotte
P.S. I’m glad you never reconciled with Ken; I always felt he was riding your coattails. No one’s hair looks that flawless all the time.
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In summary, saying goodbye to a cherished toy like Barbie encapsulates the bittersweet nature of childhood transitions. While it marks the end of an era, it also serves as a reminder of the creativity and joy she facilitated in countless imaginative play scenarios.
Keyphrase: Barbie farewell letter
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