As I looked inward for relief from this world, I happened upon some memories of various dolls I've had, all the way back to age 2 and up. Here is what I came up with:
TINY TEARS - her head was ripped off to look for "dope" by my mother during a psychotic break. Father "repaired" the doll for me as well as taping up cracks in her legs and her fingers were chewed ... eyelashes missing and eyes closed kind of funny ... She was my BABY!
BETTY LOU - big baby doll I had very young who probably had a porcelain or bisque head and she was broken with pieces missing from her head from my brother dropping her. She went to "Doll Heaven," I was told ... which in an awesome and memorable moment of "snooping" in the utility room cupboards, climbing up to the top cupboards, I discovered "Doll Heaven" was up there with broken Betty Lou. AH HAH moment.
FORGOTTEN NAME - given a doll that was quite large with a blue little girl dress with ribbons and lovely blonde hair which I immedately wanted to "do" her hair and washed it and it turned into a straw pile resembling a cyclone. Gave up idea of becoming beautician.
DIAMONDS - Before the police took my mom away ... to jail then to a psych ward ... I was 5 years old and just started kindergarten ... the police allowed my mom her wish to go up to the "Little Store" and buy me a doll and my brother guns in holsters ... then "adios."
That doll was very tall with a beautiful blue long ball gown all sparkly with high heels and pearl and diamond earrings and necklace. Her hair was brown and curly and short. She made me feel creepy and sad but I felt sorry for her, her job to replace my mom and cheer up.
BRIDE DOLL - mom's friend Gladys gave me a beautiful small bride doll with a white gown and veil and glamorous hair and face. I think her hair was strawberry blonde. She just sat there. Being a bride didn't seem feasible much. Thankless job.
There were small little jointed dolls with handmade clothes from my Aunt Dorothy. The hair was long and wavy and you could put it in a ponytail. The clothes were very sweet, esp that she made them. Aunt Dorothy was special. She didn't know it, though.
I would sew clothes for my Tiny Tears with my hand crank plastic toy sewing machine. A little rough but I was still proud. I sold my sewing machine in elementary school 3rd or 4th grade for 50 cents to Ellen. Mom and dad were not happy. I felt rich.
Never having any Barbie dolls when young or a teenager -- I played with other friends' Barbies -- I bought myself an expensive reproduction porcelain replica of "Solo in the Spotlight" nightclub singer Barbie with a microphone, strapless black dress, glamorous undergarments and high heels, pearl necklace and earrings. That very expensive Barbie stood on many of my shelves holding her pink scarf with black long-gloved hands in various poses as she sang torch songs in Barbie-land -- until my newer Topsy Turvy doll from Mackinac Island fell over on her, breaking her arm and leg.
I truly believe that I chose not to have children due to the devastating beheading of my "baby" Tiny Tears that I had been the mother to for several years where I cared greatly for her, washing her little lambswool hair, giving her a bottle and miraculously changing her diapers when she peed and wiping the tears from her eyes. I'd carry her everywhere with me and dress her and make clothes for her and especially LOVE her. I was 4 or 5 when the horrible act happened ... by someone I loved more than anyone. Please parents, be careful what you do to your children or their belongings. I understood years later why it happened, but the child in me, and the inner child in me, only knew that my baby child was killed by my mother.
...from your SisSTAR xo