One woman’s utopia: A Barbieland society with ample pickleball courts

When I first heard about The Barbie Movie, I wasn’t that interested—a movie about Barbie dolls? Unlike KitKat, who grew up with sisters and played with Barbies a lot, I never even had an actual Barbie doll…My sisters were 9-17 years older; so if they had any Barbies, they would have resembled “weird Barbie” by the time I came along. I envied my friends who had a whole cache of Barbies and a case for her clothes. To have the Corvette or Dream House would have been a luxury I couldn’t even envision. As the eighth child surrounded by boys, rusty Tonka Trucks were in good supply, but not many dolls—let alone fashion dolls.

At that point in my tender youth, when everyone was still courting skin cancer in search of The Savage Tan, Malibu Barbie was It. I desperately wanted one, but the closest I ever got was Malibu P.J. (Google it: PJ was one of Barbie’s transitory friends, although she was never mentioned in the movie.) This sums up my youth in a nutshell. If something was cool or popular, I probably didn’t have that thing. But I usually, eventually, acquired a less popular, less expensive version of The Popular Thing instead. Sigh. What a tragic childhood. I’m sure this has left deep scars…but I think it also reinforced my tendency to occasionally buck the trends, and I believe a little nonconformity is good for a person, so it all balances out… 

Anyway, back to our story. 

As a marketer, I was impressed with the promotion of the movie—I had never seen such a thorough marketing campaign for a movie. The number of clever cross-promotions was staggering, a true Master Class. But I still had no interest in seeing a movie about Barbie dolls. 

That is, until the reviews started rolling in. And angry MAGA types started bashing the movie. Now I was intrigued. The week it opened, I met KitKat on the pickleball court. She mentioned she had seen The Barbie Movie the night before. “I loved it!” she exclaimed. “You’ve gotta see it.” We talked a little about how it showed men’s and women’s roles (with no spoilers), and I agreed that it sounded like something I’d enjoy. 

As we were playing pickleball that day, we noticed an older guy (late 60s/early 70s perhaps?) “teaching” his friend/girlfriend/wife how to play. He stood showing her how to hold the racquet, serving ball after ball for her to hit in a rote manner, constantly “correcting her” and  never letting her actually “play.” Pickleball is not a difficult sport to learn and even our professional instructor let KitKat and me play during our first paid lesson. We felt bad for this woman.

Later that week, Oskar and I went to a matinee of Barbie. We both enjoyed the movie and thought it was thought-provoking. I told him about our pickleball observation which directly relates to one scene in the movie. Afterward, I read a few more reviews [Bill Maher: INSERT EYEROLL HERE] and my overall takeaway was that while the patriarchy is exaggerated somewhat for effect in the movie—many men think it’s GREATLY exaggerated, while other men and most women realize it’s only SLIGHTLY exaggerated. 

After I had seen the movie, KitKat and I were back on the pickleball court playing a fierce game of singles when the same aforementioned gentleman, who was on the adjacent court giving his partner another “lesson” approached us, offering a neon yellow pickleball. “You’re playing with an indoor ball,” he told us. “This is an outdoor ball. Try it, it will work better.” 

Now, Dear Readers, KitKat and I were playing with an outdoor ball. Sure, it was a different brand and a different color, but I had previously confirmed that it was an outdoor ball, and we had been playing happily and successfully with it for weeks. 

So, I told Mansplaining Pickleball Guy that the ball we were using was, in fact, an outdoor ball. He took it from me, regarded it skeptically, bounced it, then bounced his ball, and handed me both balls. “Just try this one,” he said dismissively, “I think you’ll find it’s better.” Then he walked away to continue his lesson with his friend/girlfriend/wife. KitKat and I looked at each other: “WTF was that?” We shrugged and then played one game with the new ball. Afterward, we went back to our original ball just to make a point. 

Back to life off the court… I knew my daughter Lucky would enjoy The Barbie Movie, so I invited her for a lunch date. There were so many layers to the film that I was happy to see it a second time. As predicted, she loved the movie as entertainment—Lucky was a film major in college, so she really appreciated the various techniques, set design, costuming, etc., that went into the production. (It IS a visually stunning movie, even for those of us without a film degree.)

Nobody puts Stormy in a box!

Afterward, Lucky and I were eating vegan burgers and dissecting the plot. Both my daughters are strong feminists, and Lucky’s feeling was that it was a little too soft on our patriarchal society (because the Ken’s in the film were made to be kind of lovable and goofy). Her criticism is that a lot of misogyny is really evil at its root—a calculated effort to control women. But as someone who has seen improvements over the past 50-something years, I think it’s more complex than that. I believe our society is still deeply patriarchal, but that much of it stems from tradition and ignorance vs. maliciousness. Don’t get me wrong, misogynistic maliciousness absolutely exists and is running rampant within our politics at present; still, I like to think that people always have the capacity for change and growth.

At our next PB game, I shared Lucky’s “review” with KitKat, who brought up that the Ken characters were being true to Ken’s nature as an accessory in Barbie’s life, which I thought was also an astute observation. Anyway, if you haven’t seen the movie, I’ve given away nothing of the plot, so please go see it and let me know what you think. 

Meanwhile, I want to circle back to my earlier assessment of how many men think the patriarchy is GREATLY exaggerated in the movie, while other men and most women realize it’s only SLIGHTLY exaggerated and wrap up this discussion with my analysis of Mansplaining Pickleball Guy: 

Do I believe this man had ill intent in approaching us with his wrongful perception that we were using an indoor ball to play outside? No. Do I think he was trying to be “helpful”? Yes. Did KitKat and I feel compelled to at least “try” his ball? Yes. Did I go home and re-verify that our original ball was an outdoor ball (even though I knew it was), because his surety made me doubt my own knowledge? Yes. (I am embarrassed to confess that I literally counted the 40 holes.) 

But here’s the most important question: Would Mansplaining Pickleball Guy EVER have approached two 50-something-year-old MEN playing a competitive game of singles to correct them on their ball choice? And furthermore, assume they were using an incorrect ball from a distance of 50 feet away? The answer is NEVER, EVER, EVER. And if you think otherwise, you’re lying to yourself. 

I’m grateful to Greta Gerwig, Margot Robbie, Ryan Gosling and the rest of the cast and production crew for The Barbie Movie for bringing this story to life in such an entertaining way, while giving all of us something to think about—and more importantly, something to work toward. 

Looking for a happy pill

I am sad. Why? No particular reason. At least none that I can directly point to. I am not even sure if “sad” is the right word. Wistful, blue, blah, wishful, lacking … all I know is don’t call it mad. That is what had me walking out of the house the other night.

I can’t say what set me off. Perhaps my hope, or need, for a fun family dinner to dispel the dark mood cloud I felt settling in. A dinner that instead had my son angrily sticking up for, or throwing a tantrum about, Adrian Peterson. “It’s just what they do in Texas,” (said the boy who may have had four spanks/light swats EVER which left me as the only one hurt, due to my guilt over losing my temper). His only motivation was 11-year -old warped thinking that if he argued his point, miraculously the Vikings would have their star back and win again. Or maybe it was my daughter, who left the table ten times to look at her wiggly tooth (her first one). And then there was my husband who just didn’t pay attention to any of us. I wanted laughter, smiles and talk – a distraction from my looming mood. Basically, a pretend TV family. That was not happening.

Click to watch my version of fun family dinner
Click to watch my TV version of family dinnerblack-play-button

I was craving having a feeling – and not the kind of feelings I have been having lately.

I’ve been busy worrying about family members: Breast cancer, undiagnosed but life-affecting illnesses, and a liver laceration (of a child who might as well be family – our kids call each other cousins).

I have also been feeling stressed: busy working at a crazy pace with insane RFP responses added to my already over-packed job (and they’re not a marketing favorite), branding and marketing a friend’s new hair salon, and exploring a little side business idea.

Add on to that, dealing with raising a middle schooler and his Jekyll and Hyde emotions.

Maybe my need for the “right” feeling was brought to the surface from the heartbreaking tragedy of a school mom who died in her sleep a few days before. Maybe that is what kicked up the dust, woke me up in the midst of being lost in the hecticness, and made me want to feel something special. Or, perhaps it was just plain and simple craziness. Or it could be my hormones. (I have hit the age where I can blame them for everything). All I know is I needed to laugh. I needed to feel pure joy. I needed to enjoy. I was needing one of those moments of bliss like girls’ night at the cabin, sisters drinking wine on a Sunday, or dancing would give me. I’d had a taste of it recently – a couple of hours with my stepmom and sister just laughing in the kitchen together. But I needed more of that silly stuff that makes the rest of it all worthwhile.

With dinner not going as planned, and my family not giving me what I needed (admittedly it was a losing battle for them before it started), I got distant. Annoyed. Bummed. Resentful. I can’t tell you exactly where it escalated, but basically the words “I can’t do anything without you getting mad. Nothing I do is right,” were the final words muttered to me that set me off. I stood up and left the house without a word.

I walked and walked. I tried to sort through what was wrong. I just knew I was missing something. I stopped and had ice cream. (That helped a little – simple pleasures). Then I walked some more. My head was reeling with how to fix it.

Nothing came and two hours later I went back. My daughter was still wiggling her tooth in a mirror. The guys were each on a couch (squishing my pillows!) and I walked upstairs without saying a word and went to bed. My drama basically unnoticed by anyone else.

Nothing like starting a day a few bucks richer
Nothing like starting a day a few bucks richer

It’s a new day – starting with the announcement of a missing tooth. “This is such an exciting day!” squealed my six year old. Decidedly a new attitude was needed from me too. So along with my Daily Love dosage, I added on another cheesy self-love prescription and decided to take the advice to write three things I am thankful for today.

  1. I am thankful for the smile from my beautiful daughter with her first tooth missing.
  2. I am thankful for reading that my son did notice I was upset and texted “you ok? coming home? love you.”
  3. I am thankful for all of the special people who have made me smile and laugh in so many different and wonderful ways, that I miss it when I am down.

A moment of bliss in NY with my special people
A moment of bliss in NY with a couple of my special people

Damn, this stuff works. I am smiling at the flood of fabulous memories. I found a natural happy pill. And I’m not crazy – I just like to smile.

How this came about: KitKat’s story

I woke up one day as a grown up. No one tells you how to be that. Sometimes I excel at it and other times I am tripping through it.

Looking at myself from the outside, I see a woman busy raising two young kids, enjoying great family and friends, and building a demanding but good career. Shouldn’t that be enough? Isn’t it all I ever wanted? If I have it all, why do I fantasize about giving it all up and running away to sell toe rings on a beach? Maybe I need to add another distraction to my already over-scheduled life?

Usually a glass of wine and good girlfriends get me over the hump. Lately, the more I talk with others, the more I find out I’m not alone in my contradictions and craziness. Take Stormy for example, she was my professional mentor, the one who always provided words of wisdom through my ups and downs, gave sound advice on marriage, parenting, and career choices. Yep, the one who had it all together! So as our friendship grew over the years and we became peers, I was surprised (and secretly thrilled) to discover not even she had it all figured out and put together.

Since talking and sharing is what has helped us get through some major and minor internal struggles, we’re hoping this blog will allow other women to know they aren’t crazy – or if they are, well at least realize they are in good company. I also am hoping that by writing down and examining all the contradictions running though my head, I will finally discover that perfect balance between adding new excitement and being content with what’s already there. I have a feeling that this is easier said than done.