More specifically, I hate dolls that are supposed to resemble actual, human babies.
And I really, really, REALLY hate those dolls with the eyes that move.
That just isn't right.
I think it started when I was three, when someone gave me a cloth Raggedy Ann doll that was bigger than me. I still have it:
Granted, this doll doesn't look like a human baby. But something in its eyes scared the crap out of me. Or, maybe, the fact that its eyes were DEVOID of anything scared the crap out of me. Its eyes are all black and lifeless, and it's just perpetually smiling.
Shudder.
It sat on a tiny rocking chair by the foot of my bed for years, and it literally PETRIFIED me. When my parents turned out the light and my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I was convinced I could see it moving ever so slightly out of the corner of my eye, but if I focused on it, it would stop. Obviously, the doll was trying to sneak its way over to my bed so it could cause me some sort of bodily harm. Obviously.
(Can I just tell you that I have the full-body chills just typing this? I'm 32.)
So I refused any offers of baby dolls for Christmas and birthdays. (Barbies were OK; I mean, how much damage could a Barbie do?) And I steered clear of the antique Tiny Tears doll (with those awful flapping eyes -- UGH) that my mom kept in their bedroom. And I never went into my grandmother's basement (where she had multiple dolls -- with the crazy eyes -- HANGING IN BASKETS ON THE WALL) unaccompanied.
Dolls are evil. Don't believe me? Check out this article. The title is "The evil zombie doll we adore." It pretty much lays out my worst nightmare in a short, snappy article for Oprah.com.
The dolls are not messing around.
I would love to (someday) have a baby daughter. But family and friends, beware: Any gifts of baby dolls will be met with a tight smile and a (silent) hope that you've included a gift receipt. Because I just can't face having an evil zombie doll popping up behind the furnace and terrorizing repairmen and generally making me afraid to be in my own house.
(Stuffed animals are OK.)
(Unless they look like they're up to no good.)
I think it started when I was three, when someone gave me a cloth Raggedy Ann doll that was bigger than me. I still have it:
Granted, this doll doesn't look like a human baby. But something in its eyes scared the crap out of me. Or, maybe, the fact that its eyes were DEVOID of anything scared the crap out of me. Its eyes are all black and lifeless, and it's just perpetually smiling.
Shudder.
It sat on a tiny rocking chair by the foot of my bed for years, and it literally PETRIFIED me. When my parents turned out the light and my eyes had adjusted to the dark, I was convinced I could see it moving ever so slightly out of the corner of my eye, but if I focused on it, it would stop. Obviously, the doll was trying to sneak its way over to my bed so it could cause me some sort of bodily harm. Obviously.
(Can I just tell you that I have the full-body chills just typing this? I'm 32.)
So I refused any offers of baby dolls for Christmas and birthdays. (Barbies were OK; I mean, how much damage could a Barbie do?) And I steered clear of the antique Tiny Tears doll (with those awful flapping eyes -- UGH) that my mom kept in their bedroom. And I never went into my grandmother's basement (where she had multiple dolls -- with the crazy eyes -- HANGING IN BASKETS ON THE WALL) unaccompanied.
Dolls are evil. Don't believe me? Check out this article. The title is "The evil zombie doll we adore." It pretty much lays out my worst nightmare in a short, snappy article for Oprah.com.
The dolls are not messing around.
I would love to (someday) have a baby daughter. But family and friends, beware: Any gifts of baby dolls will be met with a tight smile and a (silent) hope that you've included a gift receipt. Because I just can't face having an evil zombie doll popping up behind the furnace and terrorizing repairmen and generally making me afraid to be in my own house.
(Stuffed animals are OK.)
(Unless they look like they're up to no good.)
3 backtalk:
Ok, I am beginning to believe we are related somehow. Seriously.
I HATE HATE HATE Dolls as well. They totally creep me out, especially those antique porcelain dolls, and honestly I am afraid of them. And I am with you, there will be NO doll buying if I ever have a little girl some day. Confession: My Nana got me a few porcelain dolls when I was 16 (why, no idea). I was scared of them and put them in a box, but after a week I took them out and put them in my closet because I was afraid if they were in a box they might get pissed off and kill me. I still believe that to be very logical.
P.S. NEVER go to the Findlay Antique store off 75. My hubby loves antiques and spends hours at the store. I had to use the bathroom so went in and literally gasped when I walked in. It had porcelain doll WALLPAPER ALL over the bathroom. I thought about just leaving, but closed my eyes and pulled it together and made it through. However, I know they were looking at me the entire time and most likely plotting some evil scheme. not cool.
I am SO glad it isn't just me. We'll have to have coffee sometime and talk about the evilness of dolls. :) And, thank you for the tip about the antique store. OMG -- I totally would've flipped out right then and there. NOT cool.
<-------- mwah hah haaaaah!
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