My SD Moms I’m not going to pick on Barbie … too much. I’m a Barbie graduate. I did many years pretending I was the leggy one with the ‘vette, the dream house, Skipper, and Ken. I cut their hair on purpose (well, not Ken’s, of course) and accidentally 
broke their arms. Since I had a younger sister, I probably played with Barbies much longer than most kids my age back then until they were retired to my parents’ attic where they still reside today, cobwebbed and cold, but still with a figure that defies time and age and the laws of the average human form. Not so for Lammily, the “normal Barbie” who might end up being your kid’s best doll friend thanks to herscars, pimples, stretchmarks, and — for the truly daring — tattoos.
It reminds me of the Build-A-Bear gifted to my father when he was in a motorcycle accident from his friend. He made it to be a biker bear with a faux leather jacket, black sunglasses, and a cast on his leg with crutches. Perhaps a Lammily with stretchmarks would make a great present for a mom concerned about her changing body. Or a teenager worried her skin isn’t flawless. But it’s also a realisticpreemptive move for parents to buy Lammily for their kid so that their child knows that women aren’t all plastic pieces of so-called perfection. I like that. Dolls should be in all shapes, sizes, colors, adding to the magic of playtime.
But I do think the “normal Barbie” nickname should stop. What does normal even mean? There are some women who look like Barbie just like there are some who look more like Lammily. We can’t teach kids that one is normal and the other is not. They should learn that we are all here and different and fantastic in our own unique ways and looks.
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