A Barbie Called Lyn

I played with Barbie dolls today.

I found one of Paige's dolls at the back of the washing machine. It was filthy. I found another one inside the hamper of dirty clothes and it was even dirtier. I found another on top of my law books and yes, it was dirty. They were all naked.  I took all three and I gave them a bath. It was like 1989 all over again. I gave them a bath and then I spent countless minutes untangling their hair. For an hour or so, I was a kid - and I loved it.

I used to have lots and lots of Barbie dolls. Kris and I would play with them for hours, inventing stories - and even then, I was great at creating stories for my sister. Oh, yes, it was always love stories with Ken cheating on Barbie, or some nasty broad stealing Ken away from Barbie. My 5-year-old sister was always fascinated with my stories. I, however, used to go to Ate Let's house and she'd tell me her own stories.

She'd take out Lyn, her one and only Barbie doll and we'd play with Lyn. Lyn's boyfriend was a ruler - yes, a ruler. Ate Let must have hated Kris Aquino because Kris Aquino was always stealing the ruler away from Lyn. Lyn's best friend is Timmy (the singer - I forgot the last name). Regardless of the fact that we were playing with a ruler, I'd spend hours just listening to Ate's stories and I'd come back for more.

Lyn was an old doll. Ate must have combed her hair countless of times because it was thinning, but Lyn was special. That doll was taken care of well. Ate Let treated it like it was a precious gem - and this is probably why despite the fact that I had 10 Barbie dolls, I've always thought of Lyn as special. I didn't even mind that my Barbie dolls were always the antagonists. I didn't care.  I thought that it was just right considering how special Lyn was.

Looking back, I probably just thought it was special because that's how Ate Let regarded her.  Lyn was, after all, her only doll.

I guess that's just it for everyone. We have our own "Lyn". It doesn't matter what it is. We have things that we regard as precious and it doesn't matter to us how it looks like or what people thinks of it.

So, what is my "Lyn"?

Not what, but who?  Mine is my husband.  He's a bit rough around the edges. He is not perfect and yes, someday, he'd likely lose his hair, but I'd probably always think of him as the most handsome man in the world. And it doesn't matter what anybody else's think.