Cabbage Patch Kids and the New Social Order

I love medicated chap stick. I love medicated chap stick because it smells like cabbage patch kids. That new plastic mixed with baby powder. Olfactory reception is said to be the strongest sense of memory. So, while applying medicated chap stick to my lips, breathing in the vapors, nosetalgia hit. My first cabbage patch doll was named, Sue, after my mom. Sue was a tough kid, I had to beat her a lot to get her to behave. My grandmom had one named, Thomas, who was younger than Sue. I was never allowed to play with Thomas. "He's not for playing." He had the cutest little sweat suit with bright white gym shoes. Finally, I got my own bald cabbage patch, his name was Tyler. Way more precious than Thomas and younger too. Sue was getting to be too much to handle and eventually I made her sleep in my parents bedroom until my mom let me throw her out. Then there were preemies.

I remember the commercial when they first came out. They were in those adorable plastic incubators! The nurses gently picked the petite baby up and put them in the little girls arms saying, "Be careful. Preemies need extra love and attention." Maybe my memory is skewed, but I swear that little girl was crying from happiness. I couldn't wait to have my own preemie. I never got one. I suspected my parents were a little out of touch with the cabbage patch scene. I was glad though because my friends who had them were so obsessed with caring for their preemies their lives fell apart. First, it was the endless boring conversations at lunch, "My preemie this, my preemie that." Next, their grades started slipping. Ultimately, you never saw your friend again. It wasn't until, out of curiosity, I read the side of my dad's pack of Camels that I realized a bigger issue was at stake.

"Surgeon General's Warning: Smoking By Pregnant Women May Result in Premature Birth, And Low Birth Weight." (No wonder it's called, "Being on the patch.") I was so confused. I thought that preemies were desirable, so why was this doctor army "warning" pregnant women. Wouldn't you want your baby to be cute? It was explained to me later that premature birth was not good. My world was then turned upside down. I decided to further investigate this whole cabbage patch operation. What was this Mr.X up to? He obviously had been lying about the cabbage patch. I may have been young, but I certainly wasn't born yesterday. Babies aren't grown in fields.

If I had a choice I would have cut up Sue first, but she was long gone by then. Tyler had to be sacrificed. It's still hard for me to talk about. What I found, wasn't cute. Tyler wasn't put together very well. Just six knots of thread located on the elbows, knees, upper thigh and buttocks. All the rest was stuffing. What were my parents paying for? I talked to the other kids at school. I tried to explain to them that premature birth is caused by smoking and not by an early harvest. I also told them that the C.P.K.'s were actually just cheaply put together dolls taken from mother's who smoked cigarettes. My friends all knew about the discipline problems I had with Sue and how it would make sense that this was because her mom was a smoker, but they refused to believe me. The C.P.K.'s had brain washed them. I was too late. I hadn't given up, I just needed more proof.

I spent over a month watching C.P.K. commercials only to find out that the people in the commercials were actors, not real people. I followed the C.P.K.'s in the news. On the surface it all looked very impressive, everyone wanted them. In 1985, one C.P.K. by the name of, Christopher Xavier, became the first of his kind to travel into space! I thought to myself, "This is getting out of hand."

In conclusion, I came to understand that C.P.K.'s themselves were not real, pretend. It was their concept that was reality. They were more than just dolls, they were examples of us: homeless and desperate for love, validated by their looks and material possessions. Birth certificates with trendy names verify their existence. Raised by children who are lead by a society promoting cyclical development, like for instance; creating a doll that makes sickness seem appealing.

And what did my parents say when they were me:
"You may say that I'm a dreamer.
But I'm not the only one."