DATE: Sunday, November 23, 1997             TAG: 9711210186

SECTION: COMMENTARY              PAGE: J1   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Opinion

SOURCE: DAVE ADDIS

                                            LENGTH:   57 lines

TOYMAKERS FORCE THE KIDS TO FACE LIFE'S REALITIES A BIT TOO SOON

Bowing to the argument that little girls shouldn't be raised on unrealistic expectations, the makers of Barbie dolls announced last week that they are retooling their 38-year-old bombshell to make her look like - well, actually, to make her look like a real-life 38-year-old bombshell.

A little thicker in the waist. A little less Marilyn-like in the bust. A nose that comes from the gene pool of humans, not mice. Less-seductive lips.

This is good, it is said, because little girls should not grow up believing that to be worthy, they must look like Barbie.

To further protect the little angels' self esteem, the toymakers must take the next step: overhaul Ken to make him look more like an actual male that Barbie might find hanging around the house.

Why should little girls be forgiven from looking like Barbie, but still grow up expecting the man of their dreams to look, dress and behave like Ken? After all, somebody once calculated that if Ken was a real person, in proportion to his chiseled plastic physique, he'd be about 7 feet, 8 inches tall.

(Actually, a couple of years ago they released a Shavin' Fun Ken, who came with a razor. But he fell out of popularity when he turned into Whiskers in the Sink Ken.)

The new Ken, like the new Barbie, should have a little more Molson's around the middle. For reality's sake, a good fistful of it oughta hang over his belt, which is attached to slacks that do not match any of his shirts.

Following nature's plan, the doll designers could devise a way for Ken's hair to slowly disappear, only to reappear in his ears, his nostrils, and across his back. Also, at least one knee will no longer bend, and he will not be able to put on his socks without sitting down.

They could offer a Saturday Ken, who cannot actually be found on Saturdays. Nor can his golf clubs. And a Sunday Ken, who comes with a recliner, a Washington Redskins bathrobe, and a cellular phone that is speed-dialed to Billy the Bookie (doll sold separately).

Soon, daughter will come to mother and say, ``Mommy, I don't like this game anymore.''

And mother will reply: ``Neither do I, dear, but unless they change the community-property laws, we're stuck.''

There can be a danger, I think, in forcing pre-teens to deal with realities too early in life. The kiddie years should be a time for runaway imaginations. Plenty of years are left for the trampling of dreams.

In Barbie's case, some psychologists believe the toymakers are overreacting. Kids grow into a pretty good sense of what's real and what's make-believe. You and I didn't grow up believing that we'd live all our lives in a house next door to Mr. Greenjeans. Our own children learned that at some point their problems could no longer be solved by Bert and Ernie. The next batch will learn soon enough that the bully down the street doesn't care what the purple dinosaur sings about love and kindness.

Maybe toning down Barbie's bustline is a good idea, but not everything a child sees should be repainted in the grays of reality. Let the kids enjoy the colors while they can.

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