How envy can make your dreams come true

When I was about eight years old, my wealthy, next door neighbour invited me over to play with her Barbie.


I wasn't much of a Barbie girl, and I didn't want a Barbie world, after all.

I remember her Barbie didn’t have mangled hair and home made clothes.  It had fabulous clothes, a boyfriend called Ken (who was frankly a bit of a wet week) her very own car, and she was a Pool Party Barbie.

I was insanely jealous.

After that visit I dreamt about my very own Pool Party Barbie. I obsessed about her and every time we went to the shops I dragged Mum into  the toy shop to show her Pool Party Barbie whilst standing there trying to beam ‘buy it’ thoughts from my mind to hers. I even started planning where my new Pool Party Barbie was going to hang out in my bedroom, and, always the writer, I started jotting down stories about the adventures she would have.

Funny thing was, up until then, I hated Barbie!

I was a tomboy and would much rather have a loop the loop car set, than a whole menagerie of plastic Barbies. But I thought her life was so much better than mine. Her father the baker would make pancakes every Sunday for breakfast. My Mum didn’t think pancakes for breakfast once a week was very healthy. Her family had a pool, and a tennis court and a daily cleaner. Mum would take us to the beach when we wanted to go swimming, she didn’t play tennis and she did all her own cleaning.

My jealousy went way beyond the Barbie. I wanted her life.

Then a very strange thing happened. Her sister was seriously injured -skiing in Switzerland – and her parents had to fly over to her bedside. As a result, my friend came to stay with us for a whole month. Mum set her up in my room, proclaiming my yellow twin bed as her very own. She treated her as her third daughter.

Of course we fought like mad. What eight year old girls don’t? But we also became very close. We shared our toys and our books and I even managed to get some quality time with Pool Party Barbie. Overall my friend seemed to have fun, if at times she was a bit weapy. She was insecure, I think, being the much younger daughter of an almost grown up family.

One night we were lying in bed in the long summer twilight, chatting, giggling and singing, when my friend said something odd.

“I love your Mum. She’s realy  nice,” she said through sniffles.

“But you love your Mum too, don’t you?” I asked alarmed.

Was there about to be some kind of Mother-kidnapping?

“Yeah, but I have to go home next week. I don’t want to go home. I want to stay here, with you and your Mum.”

“But you can’t stay with my Mum, cos she’s my Mum. Anyway, one day when you’re big you’ll have to leave home. And get a job and have a baby and a husband and then you won’t be living with your Mum anyway. And I won’t be living with my Mum. Then one day, we’ll get so old, like forty or something, and both our Mums will die.”

“I don’t want my Mum to die!”

“I don’t my Mum or your Mum to die!”

Then we both started crying loudly, for real, and Mum had to come upstairs and tell us to pipe down.

She wasn’t even pleased that we were crying, because we didn’t want her to be dead.  In fact she growled so much at us that in the end neither of us wanted to stay there that night.

I don’t think my friend ever mentioned wanting to stay with my Mum, after that, just as I moved on from envying her Pool Party Barbie. Getting up close and personal with the object of my envy(her life), helped me to realise that it wasn’t worth my energy. And I did value the time I had with my Mum, after all.

I was thinking about this the other day, as I was moaning about what I want to do next.  I thought about the people I am quietly envious of, I started thinking objectively about their lives – or at least what I can see of them – and consider whether I would take on the challenges they’ve had to overcome to get to where they are today. I really tried to get over the whole ‘grass is greener’ fantasy, and asked questions like –

What have they given up for that? (lifestyle, car, house, career..)

What would I never give up? (my Englishman, my relationship with my kids, my pets, my freedom, my writing..)

Is there another way of achieving the same thing?

And you know what?

Mainly, I wouldn’t make the same sacrifices. There are only a few things I would go for. Thinking carefully about what I envied, helped me to see that those things, were actually achievable, whilst helping me to be realistic about how hard it might be to achieve them.

It made me feel more confident about realising  those dreams. And I don’t feel envious anymore, because I can take control and make the things I value, happen.

Oh yeah. And not one of those things I truly lusted after was an adult version of a Pool Party Barbie!

What was your metaphorical Barbie, and did you ever go after it? Do you think envy help you to see the things you truly want out of your life, and make your dreams come true?


PS/ And if you enjoyed this post please go and read my mate’s wonderful post about her Dad’s old Bertha. Take a hankie, it’s a tearjerker.

Image: flickr CC



'How envy can make your dreams come true' has 12 comments

  1. April 30, 2012 @ 5:02 pm Wanderlust

    I love this Vic. Beautiful. When I was a young girl my next door neighbor and best friend had a lovely life (with a lovely pool) and a horse. A horse! I used to follow my parents around and ask them to get me a horse. We could put up a fence on the hill behind the house. And I would feed it and take care of it!! I never did get my horse. I think I would have buckled under the responsibility (and my parents under the cost). Now I have cats. I love cats. They’re affectionate, sensitive and low maintenance.


    • April 30, 2012 @ 8:46 pm vegemitevix

      How funny, I always wanted a horse too. We had room in the section in front of our house, and I was determined I would look after the horse, though on reflection I probably wouldn’t have. I have cats and dogs now, and love them to bits. I’m still applying the Barbie test… considering whether the things I envy are what I want after all.


  2. April 30, 2012 @ 6:10 pm MidlifeSinglemum

    There are things my childhood self wanted – one was to be Maria Von Trap, live in a mansion on a lake, and have 7 children. I conveniently forgot about the Nazis. There are other things I also didn’t get. Some things I did get and some things became undesirable over the years (being an actress for example). All I can say is, thank goodness we don’t get to choose our lives when we are eight. 


    • April 30, 2012 @ 8:48 pm vegemitevix

      Your comment really made me smile Rachel. I completely get this, and yes I’m so relieved we don’t get what we wanted when we were eight. I seem to recall I wanted eight kids and was going to name one of the girls Kylie! ;-p


  3. April 30, 2012 @ 6:52 pm Steve

    You can never truly know someone else’s life until you live it… or walk a mile in their shoes as the saying goes.


    • April 30, 2012 @ 8:49 pm vegemitevix

      Very true indeed. I have another friend who is fabulously wealthy and seems to live a charmed life. Everyone wants to be her, except me. I know how hard it is for her.


  4. April 30, 2012 @ 9:29 pm Donna@MummyCentral

    I envied kids who had a Dad. Mine took off when I was a baby and I grew up knowing very little about him.
    When I was 16 I tracked him down. He’d remarried and had 2 more kids, and I envied their perfect family.A year after I found him, his wife learned he’d had a string of mistresses and kicked him out. He took off again, leaving 2 devastated kids aged 11 and 14.I grew up never knowing what I was missing. These 2 had to finish growing up, having known their Dad’s love – which he took away from them.Now 20 years on, we’re all in touch and time has healed certain issues. My Dad is still a selfish being who treats the 3 of us like friends, rather than his children.I still believe he was wrong to let me grow up without a Dad. But I now know I wouldn’t have necessarily had a happier childhood with him around.


    • May 1, 2012 @ 9:51 am vegemitevix

      Oh Donna I feel so incredibly sad for that little girl wishing for a Dad, but I am grateful that you found peace with the situation in your adult years.


  5. May 1, 2012 @ 5:43 pm Katriina

    This post really resonated with me. I remember many Pool Party Barbie moments from my childhood. Here is the post I wrote about learning to be thankful for the things that really matter:


    • May 1, 2012 @ 10:42 pm vegemitevix

      Love this post and have linked to it from mine. We have so much in common, I think. Not least of which the old Kingswood in our childhoods.


      • May 2, 2012 @ 8:01 am Katriina

        Thank you so much for linking my post – I’m truly honoured. The more I read your posts, the more I think we do have a lot in common, though I never suspected that you were a fellow Kingswood survivor! 🙂


Would you like to share your thoughts?

Your email address will not be published.