barbie girls - so fantastic!

Boys’ cross-dressing on stage is guaranteed to get a laugh. When we discovered on Monday night that my son's school group had not yet planned their item for the cultural evening happening later in the week, we did a quick brainstorm around the dinner table. “What about dressing up as...Barbies and performing to the song ‘I'm a Barbie girl’?” we suggested.

Out came his phone. "I'll have to check first." From cyberspace came a few tentative yes’s but he needed to discuss this further at school the next day. We seemed to be more anxious about the time factor than he did. The next afternoon, he came back with a majority agreement - and some very definite no’s. Never mind, we decided, there could be a few Kens. "Can you come and help?"he appealed to his sister. "But no hugging anybody!"

Two days to go. She got up earlier than usual so that she could help them before her lectures. "It's a disaster," she texted me later. Back to the drawing board that evening. We suggested a plan and some moves (keep it simple, no time to practice). We looked for possible Barbie clothes (anything pink, plastic and bright). Surely they have sisters? There must be stuff they could bring from home?

The next day after school I decided to have a look, bearing props for the supposed-to-be dress rehearsal (the day before the show). It really was a disaster...there was a sprinkling of costumes and some wigs; no agreement on the moves, and no music!

This was proving to be more difficult than I expected. It seems that 14 or 15 year old boys are more insecure about their sexuality than I realised. While for some it was ok to cross-dress, heaven forbid that they had to touch each other! Not even an arm placed around the shoulders or a twirl of Barbie to end the dance, was going to be considered.

At home that night we made lists, played the song ad nauseum and tried to work out a sequence, all the while aware that there really was no time to practice. Tensions were running high in our household. The next day his sister got suckered into another early morning practice. "My name is not going to be associated with this!" came the irate text an hour later. A big smiley face was the answer to my offer of help in the afternoon.  

In spite of Barbie’s disappearing to rugby or squash, arguments about who didn’t know the moves and worries about parents coming to watch, we managed to find a semblance of order. Getting them to move their hips was like trying to make a surfboard sexy, and hell would freeze over before Ken would allow Barbie to come close enough to plant a kiss on his cheek.

We managed to scrape together enough outfits and wigs, got the music and a big dollop of cheek. All we could do was hope for the best. Before curtain up, one Barbie got cold feet and another managed to camouflage himself with scarves before he sneaked up to the stage. One of the Ken’s tried to send his mother to the wrong venue. The front-row Barbie’s had no clue and Ken managed to avoid any physical contact with Barbie. But great fun was had by all. And brownie points for being brave enough to get up there dressed like that!