My Real Life Barbi

I wasn't too sure about my roommate when I first met her. I examined her as 5'7, 115lbs, blonde, pageant body, thick southern accent with a definite culture from the country. She had every single object ever known to man in pink, even our microwave! She told me that she was the only child in her family, her father and mother both spoiled her and she was glad they did. She didn't know how to iron, cook, do laundry or homework by herself. Her bank account always had at least one thousand dollars in it. Guys drooled over her, and she held them in the palm of her hand with her laugh, smile and flirts. I wasn't jealous of her; I was afraid that I was going to have to deal with the most inconsiderate girl that was eighteen years old and still watched Blue's Clues. I grew up with a family of five where knowing how to be independent was taught as soon as the first steps were taken. Maturity was expected.

After I put my stereotypical attitude in the trash, I learned to love even her innocent enjoyment in the Disney Channel. She was afraid of being alone in social settings, and this was the reason she was always with someone. Her heart was generous, and, even though she claims to be a spoiled and stubborn person to live with, she was one of the easiest roommates I have ever met. What I appreciated her doing the most was that even though her family was worth more than I was, because at that time I was on my own, she never treated me any differently than her wealthy friends.

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