“What?? You really want to see Barbie? YOU liked Barbies?”

This was my husband, Garrett’s, response after telling him I wanted to see the Barbie movie. My answer to his question was not just a yes, but a resounding yes. Not only did I like Barbies, but they were my favorite toy.

As a little girl, I would spend hours creating stories with a collection of these dolls. Wardrobe changes were frequent and the expanding variety of Barbie accessories was my guilty childhood pleasure. Although the authentic brand of the original Mattel Barbie was prominent in my collection, I did not discriminate. Any off-brand doll mirroring as a mini-human was just fine for me.

My first recollection of playing with Barbies was at my grandparents’ farmhouse. Aunt Kathy had a small red and silver striped trunk filled with Barbie dolls and their clothing. My mom, a talented seamstress, had sewn most of the dolls’ wardrobe for her little sister. There was a lacey flowing wedding dress and a 60s-themed peacoat with tiny added bows and a button. One Barbie, with a painted-on cropped haircut, had an assorted wig collection.

Playing with dolls didn’t center around role-playing for me. They were props in the childhood stories that filled my mind. The personalities and names of the dolls changed with my interests. I would play out scenes from a favorite book or movie. While watching The Wonderful World of Disney (a treasured Sunday night ritual on the farm after suffering through Grandpa’s favorite, 60 Minutes), I would line up my aunt’s dolls, playing along with the television scenes.

Seeing my affection for Barbies, I started receiving my own dolls as gifts. My first Barbie, Tuesday Taylor, came on Christmas morning. Her uniqueness came from the versatility of her hair color. You could change her look from a blond to a brunette with the twist of her scalp. The next summer I purchased Growing Up Skipper with my summer bean walking money. Skipper grew breasts, going from a young girl to a teenager, with just a twist of her arm. Dusty was a birthday present. She was the sporty version of Barbie. Heavily tanned and freckled, Dusty came with her own teether ball set.

My Barbie collection grew with the addition of the Sunshine Family. Added to my 1975 Christmas list after spotting it in the JC-Penny catalog, I was thrilled to be gifted this hippie family complete with a baby and a greenhouse. I actively played with the Sunshine’s, adding dirt and planting real seeds in the greenhouse pots. The Sunshine mom came with flat feet that wore sandals instead of stilettos. Like my other Barbie Dolls, this family also came with predetermined names, none of which I kept or now remember. I frequently changed their names to better fit the latest story I was recreating.

Little House on the Prairie also came into my life in the mid-70s. I was immediately enamored with the Ingalls family. In addition to watching the show and reading the books, I dreamt of life on the prairie, snuggling up around a wood-burning stove next to Ma and Pa.

My dream came to life via a grade school history project. I wrote a story and put together a pioneer reenactment of life on the prairie. My creative work earned me an “A”. With cardboard boxes, I designed a rustic cabin. My mom sewed the pioneer clothing, including bonnets, transitioning my Barbies into the Ingalls family. I built little furniture replicas using finds in our toybox and then put together the remaining cabin needs using cardboard, glue, and markers.

Mom always jumped in with new wardrobe ideas to fit my latest Barbie whim. Saving bits of material left from her last sewing project, she would whip up a tank top or mod dress for my Barbies. Once when mending underwear for my brothers, she decided it would be both fun and a challenge to make a pair of mini-men’s underwear for Ken. I was the envy of my friends when they saw my Ken doll sporting his very own whitey-tighties, a true replica of the original with a stitched front fly.

The Barbie corner in my room included a three-story Barbie townhouse, complete with an elevator. Its mechanism of upward and downward movement was using a simple pull string. I loved creating stories with my different mini-stage sets. The Ingalls cabin was positioned next to the Sunshine garden and greenhouse. With a Barbie convertible and a full wardrobe fashioned by my seamstress mother, I was rocking a mini movie set that mirrored MGM Studios. This was my Barbie world.

Only now do I understand the strong relationship between a child at play to their later adult self. If you are searching for what can bring you happiness and the value you contribute to the world, start by thinking back to how you found joy as a child.

My two brothers, ten months apart in age, often received matching toys as gifts. But their childhood play around these same toys was very different. One brother would always gravitate to building things with a focus on a quality end product. My other brother enjoyed taking things apart, learning how they were built, and then rebuilding them again. As for me, my play centered on people and their stories: enjoying them and creating them. As adults, my brothers and I show these same tendencies when we are shining our brightest.

During my teenage years, Dad gave me our family’s large wooden stereo console, which was replaced by a newer model in the living room. With the move of this large piece of furniture to my bedroom, I began clearing out my unused toys. The last to go was my Barbie collection, only collecting dust in the corner. After encouragement from my mom, I decided to give these cherished dolls to my young cousin, Angie.

I carefully packed each of my Barbies with the purchased accessories that were still in good condition. The homemade Ingalls cabin and any overly worn or broken pieces went into the trash. This final goodbye brought on melancholy until I saw my cousin’s face light up as we walked in her door.

Bearing my Barbie goods, I excitedly introduced Angie to each doll, pointing out the best outfit matches. As I demonstrated how to work the elevator in the Barbie townhouse, Angie lost interest and grabbed Tuesday Taylor, spinning her around in erratic dance moves. Shocked, I looked at Mom, who shot me the side-eye warning not to say anything. Silently I came to realize that Angie’s play was just different than mine. The Barbies were my gift to her, but the world she would create with them was hers alone.

I don’t label myself as a Barbie Girl. But I do totally relate to growing up in a Barbie World. With me as the director and Barbie and friends as my multifaceted cast of characters, I have no shame in my adoration of Barbie and the roles she played throughout my childhood.

We are definitely going to see the Barbie movie. A little nostalgia is good for the soul. And I think Garrett will enjoy it too. Reminiscing about my Barbie background reminded me of Garrett’s answer when asked once about his own favorite childhood toy.

“Well, I really liked playing with my G.I. Joe.”