Laughing as I write this, knowing that a simple comma after "up" and slightly different conjucation of that verb would completely change the intended title to some message of urgency for me to just "grow up" already, even though I have mentioned in this previous blog, I have zero intention of ever growing up. At my heart I will always be bratty, rebellious outlaw, albeit an aging, largely law-abiding one now. I mean if you don't count car crimes (speeding, parking, running lights, road raging, etc.).
The title is in reference to the name I was given at birth: Barbie. Obviously my full name is Barbara, but only the government and various doctors have ever actually called me that. But of course, there's a story behind that.
First off, clearly my parents were hoping to have a boy first. I get it; they were both really into sports and my mom was a total tomboy so I'm sure they were praying their first would be of the male variety. They had even picked out the name: Chip after a kid they met on the tennis courts in Fayetteville. They thought it would be a great boy name.
Can you imagine being a tiny spit of a boy and having a name like Chip Jones?? Jesus, I probably would have gotten my ass kicked every day on the playground so I guess I can be relieved that all I got was a childhood of constant teasing. I mean I know everyone gets teased for something, but Barbie was tough.
My mother has a perfectly logical reason for this. When I was born instead of the boy baby they were hoping for, they didn't really have any girl names lined up. Perhaps knowing that, my grandmother (my dad's mom) came to the hospital and tearfully begged my mom to name me after her. Sweet, right? Only problem is her name was Modena. After she left, my mom, now also tearful, begged my dad to intervene.
"What are we going to do?" she pleaded.
His cowardly response: "Whatever you think is best, honey." Not exactly the help and/or support she was seeking.
So what does one do in this situation? Well apparently the only way out of the corner she was now trapped in was to name me after herself and her own mother. Yes, I'm Barbara III.
When my parents started dating, both of their names were Bobby, although hers was spelled Bobbee. My brother was also named after my father. So in my family we had two Barbaras, two Roberts and a Sherrie. So the nicknames were: Bobby, Bobbee, Barbie and Robby...and Sherrie.
I named by firstborn after the anesthesiologist who gave me my epidural, a lovely man named Benjamin Steinman. Wasn't until I sobered up that I panicked thinking about all the potential nicknames he would subjected to. Benny (mentally challenged dude on LA Law and Benny Hill) or Benji! Ben Gay! Yikes. Fortunately the kids landed on Schmitty, which while rhymes with "shitty," could be worse.
Growing up we moved every couple of years, which did not make it easier. Nothing like being introduced to a bunch of new kids in class as "Barbie" and then get to first see the evil smiles and then hear the murmor of laughter. New kids already have targets on their back; add a funny name and let the games begin!
Let's see, there was the rather obvious "Barbie doll," but then in 1973, a new TV show debuted, "Barnaby Jones" and it was all over. Yes, my maiden name was Jones. The show lasted 8 seaons but the teasing outlived the show. Now, of course, no one under 50 remembers that show, a blessing.
When I got married, we moved from Houston to Cleveland so I took the opportunity to change my name, or least what people called me, to Barb. For many years, people stuck to that. Then slowly over the years, closer friends and coworkers would somehow get wind of the fact that most of my life I went by Barbie. Eventually my inner circle of friends started referring to me again as Barbie but it doesn't bother me at all. Now that I'm old, I kind of think it fits with my old but rebellious status.
I'm not done with this topic! Look for Growing up Barbie Part 2 at some point! I have more to say.
Off the market
Way to bury the lead, right? I've met a nice snowbirding dentist who has asked me to go steady. Yes, he did actually say that and no, he's not 74. He's a few years older than me but is fun and super active, plays tennis (prefers pickleball 😕), skis, loves music, and, of course, he golfs. It is apparently my lot in life to eventually take up that stupid sport, if you can really call it that. I've promised to try pickleball, so clearly I like him...but bonus is it buys me time before I have to take up golf.
He has a place in the city and one down in Florida, I think it's in Del Boca Vista (Bonus points if you got the Seinfeld reference 😜) or one of those places where wealthy Republicans go to golf and then die. He's assured me though that's there's just as many rich Liberals down there as there are Republicans. Regardless, having an opportunity to escape Chicago in the winter is quite compelling so I can make that work. All the butterflies and birds heading south are probably on to something.
I know that some of you will miss the crazy dating antics, but the summer of love was exhausting...and keeping the stories straight...and getting the names right was all getting a bit stressful.
My mind is not as sharp as it used to be and my memory is piss-poor so remembering the who, what, and where was becoming problematic. I was starting to have nightmares about dating logistics so I saw it as a sign it was time to take a break from online dating.
Hope this finds everyone well and enjoying this last gasp of warm weather. You all know that Christmas will be here in about 7 minutes or so...or it's going to feel like it so start the shopping panic now, folks!
Until next time.
Barb(ie)
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