But…why?

Like every other human I’ve known or heard of, and despite all my protestations, I keep getting older.

I know, it sucks, right?

In the late summer/fall before I turned 50, I realized I’d been changing. Slowly. It had been happening over the course of years. Its not a physical change but a psychological and emotional one.

I just don’t care. Or at least I’m starting not to.

Not that I don’t care about other people, or politics, or the state of the earth, or any of that. Its more that I’ve been learning the difference between caring for them and caring about what they think. Caring for someone doesn’t (unbelievably) mean you have to give in to every single opinion they may have about you or your life.

Earth shattering, am I right?

As those thoughts started to come to the surface of my mind, I sort of…cracked. In a good way, I think. I realized I could pursue just about any interest I had and the opinions of the masses were completely and utterly irrelevant.

I only wish I’d figured that out 30 years ago.

I have had, in storage, since I was about 12-13, a 1/6 scale dollhouse my father built me when I was 8 or 9. I loved that damn thing. I still love that damn thing. So in all this “growth” it hit me.

I can play Barbies again.

I’m sure “play” isn’t the correct terminology for a 50-something-year-old-adult, but I don’t care, remember? Heh. I did, briefly, consider ditching it and starting a hobby with either 1/12 or 1/24 scale. After all, that’s more adult, right? There’s far more available as far as furnishings, furniture, housing, and it would take up so much less space…but I already have this gorgeous house. And the dolls. And furniture. Because, of course I’ve saved it all from my childhood. Granted, I saved it because I had thought I’d eventually have a daughter or granddaughter who would have loved it as I did but, well, fate had other plans for us. There’s no children or grandchildren to live through vicariously.

Also, although there are more furnishings and furniture and housing and decor for smaller dolls, there are fewer dolls and far fewer choices in clothing. Decisions, decisions, decisions…

At the end of the day, I went with my heart. Barbies it would be. Or Barbie friends. Or 1/6 scale. Or Fashion Dolls. Or Playscale. Whichever.

But I’m not saying that I’ll never dip my toe in “miniatures.” Just…first things first.