As a grown woman, I am supposed to want certain adult things for Christmas presents. “Liz,” my mom says when she calls me on my adult phone that does not look like this:

My mom would never let me have a phone in my room. MEANIE!

“Pick out some clothes from Banana Republic and Anne Taylor and I’ll order them for you online.” My dad sends me an email asking what magazine subscriptions I want this year. My grandmother sends me a check.

DON’T GET ME WRONG. I love ALL kinds of presents. In fact, I think Christmas should be called Receivemas. However, what this big girl wants this year is toys. Big f—ing awesome toys.

I’d also take a night with this guy.

Toys are f—ing awesome. There are all kinds. Board games, dolls, Easy-Bake Ovens, video games. The list is unless. One of my faves growing up were Barbies. Yeah, I said it. This grown up feminist loved Barbies. Sure, they gave me body issues–I mean, even today, WHERE ARE MY BOOBS? But eh, I lived to tell.

I also liked these bitches called “Hot Looks Dolls” who were supposed to be international models (made out of cloth) who stripped down o their skivvies. My little brother liked them too.

Toys are everywhere. Yesterday I was in a CVS buying adult deodorant and I saw a modern day version of one of my faves.

The giant Barbie head!!!

Flawless.

Oh, the MEMORIES that came back. This was one of my most absolute most prized possessions from the age of 2 to 10, although mine was way more busted than the fierce bitch pictured above.

Party girl!

1980s Barbie head looked like she spent the night at Studio 54 with Liza Minnelli, Bianca Jagger, and Andy Warhol, doing anyone and anything-coke, Quaaludes, Ken–in the bathroom.

Who knows, maybe I’ll win the Super Toy Run on Nickelodeon and get to buy one! A girl’s gotta have hope.