I unwrapped the plastic packaging and then unrolled my new pink yoga mat given to me by Santa this Christmas.. I love yoga.. its so relaxing and it feels so refreshing and Santa knows that.. Even better than the feel of a good yoga sesh is the smell of the mat. That brand new rubber smell. If you could get high off of sniffing yoga mats I would have been stoned outa my mind the other day.. I got behind in my follow-along-work out dvd because as soon as I got ready for my push ups I could smell the rubber. Just stop and imagine it for a minute. Alone in the living room, you can hear the way too in shape work out instructor getting even more ripped and there I am, face down on my gut caressing my mat in my hands. My eyes are closed and I'm sniffing in as long and as hard as I possible can, over and over. So if you ever wonder why my arms are flappier than an elephants ears its because I'd rather sniff rubber than do my push ups. oh, and I love food.
This smell of rubber not only smells amazing but triggers amazing memories.. or so I thought. I guess they are amazing now but at the very moment these memories were made it was nothing more than a feeling of excruciating pain.
The smell of my new yoga mat smells JUST like the smell of a brand new Barbie. You know, when you pull back the pink tabs on the box and slide out the cardboard insert that Barbie, her brush and shoes were attached to? I couldn't wait to run my fingers through her silky fake hair but of course it was always tied down so there was that quick rush to free her from her packaging. Its like you couldn't do it fast enough and back in my day(yes I'm now old enough to say that) Barbie was just strapped in with some thin thread.. not all that plastic crap that'll break your scissors trying to cut her out of. I'd snap the threads and my new barbie would be free! Free to be sniffed! haha man I'm weird. Its the truth though.. they had that fresh brand new Barbie smell that smells like Christmas morning or your birthday.
If you knew me as a kid you'd understand why I got so excited over little things like taking Barbie out of her box. I LIVED Barbie. I had Barbie travel cases to keep just enough barbies and clothes to last an over night trip to Nonnies.. I had Barbie motor homes.. Barbie swimming pools.. Barbie Jeeps, kitchens, houses.. you name it! and then, there was the tub. My pride and joy. My life. My everything. It was a big blue plastic tub with a lid and inside lived 52 Barbies. Yes, I remember the exact number.. you'll understand why in a minute. I loved each one of my Barbies like nothing else, but you know who didn't love them like I did? Catie. Catie loved dogs. Playing dogs that is... She was aaaalways on her knees licking the top of her hands like paws, growling at whoever she was mad at for the moment and always explaining what kind of dog she was, her name and her coloring. She even ate a piece of dog food once from the back yard.. this kid didn't mess around. Since she didn't mess around and had to be as much like a dog as possible, it would make sense that she would have to have a bone. What dog doesn't have a bone? Even better question.. what dog doesn't have a pile of bones! Its every dogs dream to have them piled high just like in the movie All Dogs Go to Heaven.. So Catie found herself a pile of bones.. She found them attached to the bodies of my 52 Barbies in my tub. Thats right.. she pulled off the legs of almost all of my barbies leaving legless torsos behind for me to find in my tub. Not even the silkiest blonde barbie hair could make them look beautiful again. They looked like they had been in a war with GI joes and little green army men. They had lost. I can remember like it was yesterday, walking over to my tub, pulling the lid back and my stomach turning. Being the cry baby that I am, I instantly starting bawling my eyes out. I can still see all the halves just piled in the tub with skirts and pants mixed in around them. I had about 10-15 survivors but the rest never made it. Now thinking back, I'm surprised Catie ever made it.... I was furious and now that I stop and think about it, at 22 years of age I'm still very bitter. You can't recover from a loss like that! All the years of collecting, dressing, hair brushing, accessorizing... ruined by a greedy dog that needed a pile of bones. I take it back.. this isn't an amazing memory..
So thats about as relaxing as my yoga sessions get.. I get high off my yoga mat and then think about old memories and my blood pressure rises until I'm steaming out the ears again.. I think its really doin something for me.. really working out those angry muscles in my face.. mm yeah.. that feels goooood.
RIP my Barbies.. I know you're in a better place where the streets are pink, you have your own pink castle and there isn't a dog in sight.