DO NOT TOUCH MY KEN DOLL!

When I was little I wanted to do everything like my big sister, Amber. She had the best clothes, toys, games and friends and I could only hope to be like her one day (not much has changed). But when she was older, she always wanted to go hang out with her friends instead of stay home with her two little sisters and play. I was left to play with my little sister, Grace (not a bad thing), who was five years younger than me but also shared an intense passion for Barbies. One Christmas, Amber got the new Barbie and the Rockers Ken doll, equipped with a long, shiny, silver trench coat and a brush to combs his wavy, blonde locks. Grace and I couldn't wait to get our grubby little kid hands all over him but Amber gave us strict instructions NOT to touch her Ken doll. She even acted like a teacher back then, I think she sat us down, shook her finger at us while laying out her rules. This made the situation more appealing for Grace and I. We wanted to reunite Ken with his buddies- Derek, Barbie, Dee Dee and Diva, whom belonged to Grace and I. Isn't it just obvious that The Rockers needed Ken to complete their band? Grace and I thought so.

So one day, shortly after Amber threatened us with our lives not to touch her coveted Ken doll, she left for the day to go hang out with her friends. I don't think my mom's car had even left the driveway before Grace and I went sprinting up the stairs into Amber's room to grab Ken so we could get the band back together. We still aren't sure why we chose to do what we did that day but at the time it felt right to bring him outside first, alone. Maybe we wanted to ease him into meeting the rest of the Rockers first- he could have been nervous. What if he and Derek didn't get along? I also don't remember exactly who carried out the events that were about to unfold (it was probably me) but clearly I am still scarred. Grace and I (laughing the entire time) took Ken outside to play and the next thing I know, he was flying through the air, towards the well. Crash! Shocked, we ran to his side to assess the situation. It was a grim site next to that well. Even though he was still smiling and his flashy coat was still gleaming, his leg had popped off. NOOOOOO! From that day forward, he was known as Handicap Ken and we made him a wheelchair out of a pink Barbie beach chair. What happened when Amber found out, you ask? I have blocked it out of my memory, but I think she is still mad...