Barbie is no longer a role model for our bodies or our careers —she is a time capsule of our childhood hopes.
We realize now that being "everything" is exhausting. Barbie never had to deal with 3 AM wake-ups, aging parents, or the emotional labor of planning the school bake sale while prepping for a board meeting. We love the ambition she represents, but we’ve made peace with the fact that being a "Malibu Surfer" and a "Heart Surgeon" in the same week is a recipe for burnout. barbie 40 something mag
Now that we are 40-something, we are building our own Dreamhouses. They might have clutter and laundry piles, but they have love. We might not fit into her pink corvette, but we are comfortable in our minivan. Barbie is no longer a role model for
You have been through enough life now to have a few "splits" that didn't heal right. You have the drawer in the kitchen with the mismatched Tupperware lids. Your hair has grays (that you may or may not embrace). You have lost the corvette keys more times than you care to admit. The 40-something Barbie doesn't care about being pristine in the box anymore. She is out of the box, drawn on with Sharpie, and still standing—even if she is a little bit crooked. We love the ambition she represents, but we’ve
If you are a 40-something woman, you likely have a complicated relationship with the original 11.5-inch blonde. We grew up in the golden era of the 1980s and 90s Barbie—the era of the Barbie and the Rockers big hair, the Magic Moves bending joints, and the absolute cultural chokehold of the Barbie Dreamhouse (the one with the actual plastic elevator).
That is a metaphor for the 40s.
In the movie, Ken says, "My job is just 'beach.'" And honestly? At this age, we respect that. We don't need Ken to complete us. We need Ken to take out the trash, make the coffee, and tell us we look great in our elastic waistbands. We have stopped trying to fix the "fixer upper" Kens. We are looking for the Kens who know how to fold a fitted sheet.