Fandom: Dragonball Z
Publish Date: 3/15/2003
Disclaimer: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, I do not own DBZ.
"Lalalala…" the little girl happily danced the voluptuous blonde doll through the air. Then she smoothed down the doll’s bright pink dress and moved her stiff plastic arms into a new position. That accomplished, she began digging through the plastic tub of accessories searching for some unknown item to complete the doll’s look.
Bulma looked over her shoulder and smiled fondly at her daughter’s antics. She was working in her lab while Vegeta and Trunks were out in the Gravity Room doing some training, so it was just her and her daughter for a little quality time. Quiet quality time. And quiet was a very prized, very valuable commodity at Capsule Corporation, considering that Vegeta had never been known for his discretion or his ability to sneak around inconspicuously. No, when he came into a room, you knew he was there. It was impossible to miss him.
Bra loved her Barbies more than anything. She played with them almost all the time, and usually carried at least one with her. And she always had to have someone to play Barbies with her, be it her mother, her brother, a friend, or her father.
Bulma had actually walked into her daughter’s room once to find the somewhat hilarious scene of Vegeta, the proud Prince of the Saiyan race, sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing Barbies with his daughter. He was holding a Ken doll, while Bra was, of course, Barbie. They even had the doll house set up, with the classic pink minivan out in front, and several of Barbie’s friends arranged both in the house and the car. The floor had been littered with accessories.
When he’d realized that he’d been discovered, he had quickly abandoned the game, much to Bra’s dismay. A full blown temper tantrum had followed until Vegeta had given in and resumed the play with his daughter. Not that he was very happy about it. It wasn’t as much fun when he was angry, which was too bad. When he was in a good mood, Vegeta made a very good Ken.
But luckily, even when she couldn’t convince her father to embarrass himself a little bit for her sake, she could usually get someone to play with her. Goku was always a favorite. Being very much like a child himself, he had no problems coming up with a new adventure for Barbie and her friends to go on, or a new game for them to play.
Now the little girl was lovingly brushing the doll’s curly hair with a pink plastic brush, still singing softly to herself. Then she changed Barbie’s clothes a few times. First she was a veterinarian; then she became a ballerina; then Barbie was decked out in her formal finest with a crown on her head.
"Mommy, look! She’s a princess, just like me!" Bra squealed happily.
Bulma smiled again. Bra was a little princess, in every sense of the word. And the little girl knew it, considering she had her father wrapped around her little finger. Vegeta adored his daughter, though he would never come right out and say it. But it was obvious enough.
"Yes, she is a princess," Bulma agreed. "And a very pretty princess!"
Bra nodded, then returned to her own little play world. Bulma sighed happily and went back to the project in front of her. Even though she was technically working, this was quality time with her daughter, and it was time that both of them thoroughly enjoyed. Bra would play on the floor, usually with her Barbies, while Bulma got something accomplished that was related to work and Capsule Corporation. Then Vegeta would come in and loudly demand something to eat, until he realized that his daughter was within earshot. As soon as he saw her, he would tone it down immediately.
My beautiful little girl, Bulma thought contentedly. Don’t ever change, you understand me? Stay like this forever and ever.
"Mommy!" the child said suddenly, looking at her mother with a big smile.
"Yes, sweetie?" the mother replied indulgently.
"I want to look just like Barbie when I grow up!" Bra declared proudly.
Bulma’s blood froze at that statement. She had to fight to keep a look of sheer disgust from creeping onto her face. That was undoubtedly the worst thing she had ever heard come out of her young daughter’s mouth.
Why would Bra want to look like that? A doll, made of plastic. Almost no normal person could look like Barbie. It was a terrible, terrible ambition to try and look like that. Without even realizing it, the child was setting herself up for disaster.
Dozens of possibilities danced through the worried mother’s imagination as to what could befall a little girl who dreamed of looking like Barbie. It started bad and went downhill. Hair dye, low self-esteem, cosmetic surgery, eating disorders…the list went on and on, and none of the thoughts were very pretty. All of it, self-destruction, would be in an attempt to look like some doll with a perfect body. And it was the last thing Bulma wanted to see happen to her precious little girl.
No, wanting to look like a Barbie doll was NOT something Bulma was going to let happen, and she was going to put an end to that little dream right here and now.
"Why do you want to look like her?" Bulma demanded, startled at how harshly her voice came out. But she was concerned. "Why?"
Bra looked a little confused at her mother’s outburst. Then she slowly got to her feet and walked over to her mother. Then she held up the doll so her mom could see it and said, "Can’t you see it, Mommy? She’s the prettiest girl in the world. Can’t you see it?"
"No, I can’t," Bulma said. "Is that why you want to look like her? Because she’s the prettiest girl in the world?"
"Bra, would you just tell me why you want to look like her?" Bulma sighed. "Why?"
The little girl pushed the plastic doll into her mother’s hand.
"Because," Bra said innocently, "she looks just like you."