There I was. Laying on the floor after another long day. I lay on the floor for several reasons. To play with the dog. To stretch out. And to cool off.
But my fun and relaxation came to an abrupt end when I innocently turned my head for what was supposed to be a split second. I couldn't believe what I was staring at. I was face-to-face with him.
|He's so pretty.|
And not just Ken. Buck-naked Ken.
Suddenly, I was awash in awkwardness. Partly because I couldn't take my eyes off of him. So disturbing and yet impressive at the same time. And partly because not only was I marveling at his physique, but at his situation as well.
|Quite the pool party|
I stared at him, more like grimaced uncomfortably. With the Peanut safely tucked away in bed, I had an open forum.
"Why is Ken naked?" I asked my wife.
"That's what she does. She takes off their clothes and plays with them naked. We could be in trouble when she's older."
And then, my wife... the reserved one of the two of us. My straight man, if you will. The Abbott to my Costello... she says, "Maybe she's headed for a life on the pole."
Oh. My. Gawd.
I couldn't believe she had just said that. I definitely didn't want to think about it. Thankfully, she changed the subject saying, "I most certainly remember Ken having underwear. And he certainly wasn't as pretty."
I looked at Ken again. Is he pretty? Now a new set of emotions is bubbling up inside of me. She was right. He is pretty. I'm not afraid to admit it.
Bad enough he's got the perfectly chiseled body. Now he's got to be pretty too? Just look that fabulous head of hair. So jealous. And if I'm not mistaken, he's wearing lipstick. Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Now it was time to investigate the first part of my wife's statement. I forced myself to look where his underwear should be. I said the only thing that came to mind.
|What the hell is this?|
"No," my wife said holding back laughter. "He definitely didn't have a man-gina." (I love her for repeating "man-gina.")
What is UP with Ken's man-gina? They couldn't mold him some plastastic boxers or something? All the clothes they have for this guy... and he suddenly goes commando with his man-gina?
Barbie is one thing, with her stereotypes, curves, and cliches. And always with her constant nudity too. Now I've got to deal with Ken and the whole other boxload of innuendos and awkwardness he brings. A Pandora's boxload, if you will.
I'm not sure which situation is more disturbing: the Peanut's insistence that these dolls always be naked. Or the fact that I can't stop looking.