My first wish fulfilled – my Crissy doll

Monday, December 16, 2013 Permalink

In last week’s #MyFirst blogging challenge set by Kerri Sackville, we were given the topic ‘My First Bestie’. I wrote about my neighbour and childhood best friend (Miss M); and I’m sure she’ll be stoked to know she features in this week’s challenge as well – because Kerri has set us the topic of ‘ My first wish fulfilled’.

Like most besties Miss M and I shared many a rite-of-passage. I still recall learning about ‘how babies were made’ and receiving a very graphic book (aimed at children… see pics below!) from my mother which naturally had to be shared with Miss M after I’d finished with it. (I’m pretty sure our mothers had discussed the subject first and decided the time was right.)

PicMonkey3 Collage

Similarly one day in late primary school Miss M told me she’d heard girls talking about ‘periods’ and didn’t think they meant school periods. Did I know anything, she asked. Of course I didn’t but after consulting with my mother we were simultaneously brought up to speed. (I’m pretty sure there was a book involved there as well – but it was nowhere near as memorable!).

And… to this day I still remember receiving confirmation that Santa Claus (along with his counterparts: the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy!) was not real. (Oops sorry, forgot to add #SPOILERALERT!)

Miss M discovered her mother’s hiding spot for presents at quite a young age, so in late 1974 (I think*) at age 7, her exploration uncovered a much-desired ‘Velvet’ doll on the top of the cupboard. Not long later ‘Santa’ brought her one for Christmas and – just like that – his cover was blown.

I was devastated. Not just because it proved our suspicions that there was no Santa (which meant our parents no longer needed to humour us with lots of fun stuff at Christmas) but… I WANTED a Velvet doll. She should have been mine. My reasoning was simple: I was the blonde one, not Miss M. She should have been mine!

PicMonkey Collagevelvelt

My pouting continued over the Christmas period and I still remember my disappointment days later on my birthday when there was no Velvet doll lurking beneath the bright birthday paper. Indeed, I think I was such an ungrateful little wench that I sulked that the ‘Kodak’ labelled gift was a little transistor radio not even a camera as I’d first thought!

I should note here, my family was ‘comfortable’ but not well off; but I guess I didn’t understand that as a kid. I like to think (now) that I was vaguely appreciative of whatever I received, but sadly suspect I wasn’t.

1974BWe were holidaying at an aunt’s in Brisbane at the time and what I do remember is that… in the post-Christmas sales we went shopping and… I FINALLY got my hair-growing doll: an auburn-haired Crissy! I’m fairly sure I would have preferred Velvet – a blonde like myself – but hope I was so excited at my parents’ generosity that I accepted Miss Crissy with open arms.

I should mention I actually wasn’t much of a ‘doll’ person. Indeed I had few ‘dolls’. I was more of a ‘Barbie doll’ girl. I LOVED my Barbies and they occupied my time, rather than their larger counterparts. I think my niece was a bit the same, so perhaps it’s not uncommon. Of course it meant that Crissy survived my childhood and now lives in a suitcase in my mother’s closet… not too worse for wear.

Were you an ungrateful child like moi?
Did you yearn for presents you didn’t receive?

* After some ‘research’ I discovered that Crissy dolls were actually released in the late 1960s. My incarnation (as well as the extendable hair, she spoke – sharing exciting phrases about her love to dress-up) was created in 1974 and sold through to 1975. Her ‘cousin’ Velvet ‘arrived’ in the early 70s and was made until 1974.

PS. Was gonna add a graphic pic warning re the How a Baby is Made book, but figured if it’s meant for children anyone who comes across it should be old enough to deal with the oh-so-attractive image that is still in my head nearly 40yrs later!


Roses are red and so is my car

Tuesday, February 14, 2012 Permalink

It’s Valentine’s Day today here in Oz. I scored big-time… with my annual Valentine’s Day card from my very-lovely mother; though spent the day listening to work and gym colleagues (and reading tweets) alternatively gushing over their roses and plans for the evening; or dissing the over-commercialisation of the day.

It occurred to me, however, that I have indulged in a little Valentine’s Day frivolity with the arrival of a new love into my life.

Yes indeedy, after months of procrastination online searching for a ‘new’ car, last week I found a one that interested me. Now, I’m not wealthy and I am – as it happens – a plain old mid level public servant, but because I’m going through a midlife crisis and pondering on the meaning of my existence (and stuff), I’ve bought myself a luxury car of sorts. The interesting thing is that when people ask me what I’ve bought I actually feel embarrassed and – as I’ve done here – have to qualify my purchase with the midlife crisis status explanation. And yet, I very specifically searched out this type of car.

I am the owner of a little Mercedes Benz. Now, having said that, I know that in some European countries, Mercs aren’t very exciting at all. However, here in Oz, they’re still kinda exciting if you’re shallow and frivolous like me. My new love, however, is not too OTT for a single (not-about-town) gal. It’s second hand (a 2009 model) and it’s a baby (A180) rather than something sporty with a sunroof. (After all, a girl can’t be TOO much of a cliché when indulging in her mid-life crisis!)

I did the handover today, trading my 12 year old Mazda in for its more-spanking new replacement. Well, my Mazda AND a hefty cheque of course. (Note to self: apologise to mortgage for increase!)

I was eager to get my hands on my new purchase, but as the sales rep and I moved to where my new love was waiting (obviously) impatiently for its new owner, he asked if I needed to farewell my old car.

If I was 4ft nothing and African American I would have said, “What you talkin’ about Willis?” Well, I would have if it was the late 1970s (or if the salesperson had been born in the days of Diff’rent Strokes!). Instead, on my best behaviour, I prevented ‘WTF?’ escaping my lips.

Being an insightful type of youngster the salesman understood my confusion and explained that some owners feel sad when parting with their much-treasured vehicles. In fact, he said, a recent seller had him take photographs of her and the car before she handed over the keys.

Naturally the guilt then set in and I wondered if I was indeed a heartless bitch, unthinkingly and unfeelingly casting aside her close friend and confidante of these past 10 years. After all, I had vague memories as a child of feeling sad as cars voyaged in and out of my family’s life.

But then sanity prevailed and I told the salesman I was ‘good to go’ and we moved towards the new love of my life without a backward glance at the former.

And like any new lover, my Valentine’s Day gift is going to take some getting used to. Indicators are where windscreen wipers should be, and I’ve got bluetooth connectivity… whereas my Mazda had no CD player and still featured a tape deck.

So, as others around the globe open bags of lingerie, boxes of chocolates and bunches of flowers, I’ll be thumbing through my new owner’s manual trying to work out how I can turn stuff off and on, and manage corners without injuring any bystanders.

Dear Santa

Saturday, December 24, 2011 Permalink

This is actually a post I did for my diet blog (which I’m not yet ready to share with those who know me)…