Today Zoey and I got off to a late start on our walk to Daybreak Lake. It was around 8:00 in the morning and nice out, the 90-100 degree weather expected this week was a mild 71. The sun was up accompanying a light breeze.
As we moved along our regular route, we noticed more people than usual. Men ran by pushing toddlers in specialty jogging strollers. Women came in droves, two-by-two as if ticket holders to board an infamous Arc.
Two such women came down the street. I heard them before I saw them, chatting loudly and incessantly. Daybreak mothers are a peculiar breed; Perfection, perfection, perfection. They don uniforms of oversized sunglasses, skintight running gear, sports bras, and designer tank tops everywhere. They do so in full hair and makeup, too. They are toned, tight, and augmented, the crème of the crème of the Barbie set and I long to be one of them.
The two women, one a brunette, the other a blond, moved together side by side, ponytails synchronized, left, right, left, right with a single stroller between them, towards my little black dog and me.
I half smiled, and half nodded to them, suddenly feeling underdressed, and under accessorized and luckily went ignored. Zoey and I crossed the crosswalk, and the women and baby followed us to the lake.
Ducks lined the edges of the shoreline sunbathing. Zoey snubbed the birds, and the feeling was mutual. We stopped so Zoey could round up her pee-mail, and the two women maneuvered closer to the birds.
Brunette Barbie continued talking about someone apparently the two didn’t like. Blond Barbie stopped the stroller and produced a small Tupperware container and peeled back a baby blue lid.
“Duckies want eggs?” she called to the fowl. Several ducks craned their necks towards her.
Without holding the container low or bending down so the birds could investigate the offering, she turned to the blond toddler.
“See, even the ducks won’t eat your breakfast.” With that, she turned the contents upside down and dumped them out. She replaced the lid and slipped the container into a bag. Taking hold of the stroller, she backed out of the area, Brunette Barbie falling in step, never seeming to take a breath or notice what her counterpart had done. The two women continued to a playground ahead.
The scene was both confusing and unsettling. Was Blond Barbie glad that neither the child nor the birds would eat the eggs? Would she have been unhappy if the ducks ate what the baby wouldn’t? Also, which is worse, taking a toddler to see the ducks only to reprimand him for skipping breakfast or feeding birds eggs? Maybe there’s something to be said for not being part of Barbie World after all.