When I was six or seven, I really, really, really, REALLY wanted a Cabbage Patch doll. It was the ’80’s. Everyone wanted one. They were also $100 or some such crazy price and difficult as all heck to find. We were poor. Poor enough that I had zero chance of getting one. My paternal grandmother decided the best answer was to make me one. I was beyond thrilled when I saw it, until I noticed the distinctive missing signature on the doll’s butt. *sigh* I was young and selfish, and threw a right tantrum.
But I grew to love the doll over the course of Christmas day. This lasted until the next morning, when I promptly got sick all over the doll. Barf-o-rama of epic proportions over the now dubbed Vomit Patch Doll.
No matter how much that doll was washed, her hair continued to smell like puke. I loved my doll, but I couldn’t stand to hold her. Every time I did, the fresh smell of spaghetti-puke trickled into my nose, and the dry heaves would begin.
It was the best and worst Christmas present ever. (And I still can’t smell spaghetti without getting ill.)
What was yours?