About the ~~doll~~ moniker

Dollification is a complicated and nuanced expression of sexuality for a great many people. I think it's safe to say that there's no "one true" means of defining a 'living doll'. There's as many expressions of the concept as there are people practicing it.

As for myself, I've been ~~doll~~ for a very long time. I was born prematurely and weighed just a tiny bit less than three pounds when I entered this world. I had been born by Caesarean section and avoided all the lumps and bumps and bruising those other kids endure. I was in very good health, all things considered. I was pink and rosy and really just needed a little fattening up before I left the hospital. My maternal grandmother saw me about 8 hours after I was born and as she stroked my little belly through the incubator holes, she murmured "Welcome to Life, my little doll". The name stuck.

It probably didn't help that my first wardrobe were clothes for Cabbage Patch dolls. "Newborn" was about two sizes too big for me. My grandmother couldn't abide me wearing the hospital supplied clothing that was too big and rather shopworn after all the industrial laundry cycles they'd been through. Nana bought out the stock at Toy R Us and took them home every night to wash them and return them, pressed and folded, to the hospital each morning.

Now I know some people translate 'dollification' into "bimbo". That's cool but I've never considered dolls as stupid creatures. I am an only child and my dearest and closest companions growing up were my dolls. We had hours and hours of tea parties. We picnicked in the back yard. We had long and penetrating conversations about the state of cookies and milk. We went shopping together. We vacationed together. Susie got swept out to sea one year and is now living happily with an octopus in Tahiti, or so my father assured me at the time.

Even after my 'baby doll' stage of development, I continued to collect dolls, aided and abetted by my grandmother. When she died, I was the grandchild who inherited her expansive collection of dolls from around the world. The dolls are all currently in storage because I don't have a place to display them. The bedroom is out. I'm sure Michael would find it somewhat disconcerting to open his eyes every morning to find 400 pairs of doll eyes staring back at him, watching, and waiting.

Dolls don't talk but that doesn't mean they don't understand. They're the ultimate observer. They bear witness to everything. They see it all and for some dolls, they hear confessions whispered in the night. The one thing about whispering your secrets to a doll; she'll never rat you out. Dolls are discreet creatures by their very nature.

Dolls don't have anything to do, day or night, except to sit and think. They're very accomplished thinkers. They aren't distracted by the hustle and bustle of daily living. They have time to analyze, and they're very good at comparing a person's words against their actions. Dolls understand what other people ignore. I'm like that. I don't talk much. I watch. I observe. I keep mental notes. I rarely share my observations with anyone. I'm actually very quiet, not that you'd know from reading this blog. Here is the place where I never shut up, but in real life, I keep very much to myself. I'm not so much aloof as reserved; not shy, just quiet. I keep people at arm's length for a long time and I'm slow to open up to people face to face. My favourite 'hobby' in the world is to sit in a café and watch people. I can spend hours wondering about their lives and their thoughts, their hopes and dreams and fears, all the while observing to see if my projections need to be modified.

At the same time, dolls are very agreeable creatures. They will allow you to dress them up and mold them to a certain degree. They accept your projections of them rather willingly and will reflect that back to you without flaw. You can dress a doll they way you wish but don't be fooled into thinking that you've changed the doll. You've changed her clothes and that is it. She is very adept at mimicking what it is you wish to behold. The essence of a doll is immutable and few people are ever allowed to see it.

If you're a person who has gained a doll's confidence and trust, you are indeed blessed. She doesn't give her heart easily. Once the bond between doll and owner is forged, it's unbreakable. Neither time nor distance can dampen it. Have you ever watched a little girl with her beloved baby doll? It doesn't matter that baby is tattered and worn, that one leg is half torn of, stuffing is spilling out of the wound, the hair looks like electrified straw and the dirt smudges on her face will never come off. That little girl still loves her doll with all of her heart. It's unconditional and it's pure. She still takes her doll in the car with her for trips to Nana's house, even if there are prettier and newer and flashier dolls out there to be had. Little girls don't trade in their dolls because a new doll was out on the market. Dolls and little girls could teach us all a thing or two about fidelity and devotion.

Living dolls are the most blessed women in the world. When they've finally found their true owner and open their hearts to him, it's a magical thing. Soon, he only sees the essence of the doll, her inner strength and spirit. Time and gravity will make its mark on the flesh of the doll. These processes cannot be stopped. But forever more, her owner will look upon his doll and see her eternal beauty that shines within, that which cannot be tarnished by time or circumstance.

~~doll~~