Free Ugly Doll

Recently, I chose to do something very emotionally difficult. I chose to give away a doll which my daughter received as a gift when she was four. The fact that I—not my daughter--still had Lori Walker 30-something years later attests to my emotional attachment to this worse-for-the-wear doll. Her hair had become ratty, her plastic skin a bit dirty. People who walked into the room where she stayed became startled until they realized that they were seeing an Ugly Doll, not some abandoned toddler.

I advertised a “Free, Ugly Doll” on Craigslist, expecting that I might get interest from someone wanting to adopt Lori to give to a little girl. However, an adult woman answered my ad, saying that she lived with a doll similar to Lori named Harriet. Lori and Harriet could become best friends. Later, Lori’s new “mom” sent me a picture of a very happy Lori in her new home.

Lori became important to me in adulthood. As my daughter grew, Lori represented her receding childhood. My forward-looking daughter, however, breathed a sigh of relief when I informed her that I had adopted out Lori Walker instead of foisting her off on my daughter. For some reason, I wanted Lori to be as important to my daughter as she was to me. I had to accept that that kind of bond between my daughter and Lori simply did not exist.

Giving Lori up for adoption inspired me to reminisce about dolls important to me in my childhood and important to me a second time in adult memory, like a belch after a really tasty meal.  I thought of how important dolls are to humans. Dolls have been around about as long as babies have. According to the web site, “History of Dolls,” archeologists found dolls in Egyptian tombs as far back as 2000 BC.

My most favorite doll was a toddler-sized cloth doll. She had a plastic face with white hair that looked like she had been shocked, so I named her Phyllis Diller after the comedienne, whom I adored. Phyllis-the-doll had elastic bands on her feet so I could strap her feet to mine and walk with her. I wish I still had Phyllis Diller.

Another memorable doll from my childhood is Barbie, of course. One day, I decided to cut Barbie’s long hair into a bob. Imagine my dismay when Barbie ended up with a huge bald spot, as the hair strands were attached around the circle of her skull only. It was a hard lesson in my young life about appearance vs. reality. Every child who ever had a Barbie has some sort of weird Barbie story.

 Lori Walker pre-adoption.

Lori Walker post-adoption.

Phyllis Diller (with my father holding her up).

In the spirit of the storytelling aspect of “Be-Lied,” I follow this entry with a story about dolls, “Our Secret Dolls.”