Sunday, March 29, 2009

The Smell of Plastic Babydolls

When we were little, and usually following a tornado of wrapping paper and ribbon strewn on the floor, my sister and I would crack open the box of our new doll, Barbie, She-Ra, what-have-you, and follow two distinctly different rituals...

I, the elder, maintained a cool demeanor while I slowly untwisted all the little twistie-ties that kept said doll's accessories in place. I inspected each piece for symmetry and perfection, I wanted to make sure my doll had a fair fight in the battle for my attentions once the excitement of my birthday or holiday had passed.

My sissy, on the other hand, would sloppily rip, stab, mangle the box the doll was encased in and after liberating the plastic smile from its box she'd just...sniff it. She'd take deep, long, luxurious breaths of the new plastic smell, closing her eyes to increase potency and pleasure.

This little girl would be caught sniffing the hell out of plastic bags at the grocery store checkout, the amoebic collection of Tupperware my mom had stashed under the cupboards, and always, always, always, the new toys she'd receive.

Happy Birthday to my dear little-little, S.,who from the get-go, has enjoyed the subtle and often overlooked pleasures. I norf you.

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