I'm Claire. I spend too much time on the Internet. I like people, places, and things. I'm a master of karate, and friendship. One time I was on Jeopardy. I roll my eyes a lot. Sometimes I'm funny.
“You can’t breathe - so you write.”
Anonymous (via psych-facts)
“The most important ritual in a young girl’s life is mutilating Barbie.
Seven: you held Barbie’s head against a hot lightbulb, watched the plastic and resin burn. You weren’t one to play with matches, but you were still entranced by the flames, how quickly they spread. You patted them out with a damp washcloth, and when your mother asked about the smell you blamed it on your dad, the toaster, her imagination.
Nine: you showered with your best friend. You’d done this a thousand times before, but this time she surprised you. She pressed her body against yours; the two of you slipped, fell tangled on the bathtub floor. When you told your mother, she blushed, “Don’t do that again. You’re much too old.” Later, you smashed two Barbies together—a facsimile of kissing—and wondered what made it so strange.
Eleven: you discovered yourself in bed, after the lights went out; in the bath, until the water got cold. With careful hands, you slid off Barbie’s skirt, learned that she didn’t match you. You tied her to the ceiling fan; you watched her pick up speed, fly off, hit the wall, shatter. You decided she wasn’t that different, after all.
Thirteen: you liked to trace the hips of the Barbie you should’ve outgrown; you’d think of “caress,” how closely the word matched its action. You were old enough to understand shame, why your face flamed when you did this. One night, you had a dream that left you sweaty and hot. You found Barbie; you contemplated the blonde hair, the breasts. Before you could stop yourself, you’d ripped off her head. You never said a word. You hid it in your underwear drawer, where Barbie’s eyes couldn’t find you, where the guilt couldn’t reach.
In the end, it’s easier to destroy what you don’t understand.”
'Sex, Lies, and Barbie Dolls' by Claire Winkler