When I was just a girl, Santa gifted me this china doll. She had the most beautiful blond hair - long, wavy, gleaming. She wore a granny dress in browns and creams and lace and she sat in a rocking chair. Much like a granny would. But she was too young to be a granny. I can just tell these things.
I have no idea what I named her.
She was one of those souvenirs of girlhood that survived college, singledom, marriage, and four relocations, along with a pink and yellow stuffed dog and all my yearbooks from elementary through high school and a scrapbook that details my secret love for Michael McElroy in 8th grade. And 9th grade. And, well, probably 10th and 11th, too. Love hurts. Love bites. Remember that song??? :)
Here she is. I washed her hair today because it just seemed right after all these years. It smells of rosemary and tea tree oil. Love that shampoo. I knew from experience not to blow dry it. (Barbie hair melts.)
Her eyes are pretty, no? I don't remember the lashes being so long. Latisse? Her nose is cute, not fat and squatty like mine. Although I rather like my nose, all noses considered. Her lips need work. They're too Gisha girl. But excepting that and the dress, she's just wonderful. I have this plan to turn her into an angel for our Christmas tree. I'm seeing muslin and creamy silks and glitter and tulle. Lots of fluff and glimmer. The perfect way to top off a Christmas tree.
Or, I could just cut her hair and glue it to the top of my head. I think I like being a blond.
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