While anxiously awake at 4 AM last night, I was rummaging through my guest room closet searching for some old family photos when I found two boxes with these dolls in them. It must have been 13 years since I have last seen these closet trophies, and I remember how I wasn’t allowed to play with them as a young girl. I never understood the idea of ‘doll as decor’; probably the most un-fun toy ever. But, when I saw them, I felt such sympathy for their unused essence (as a kid, I believed whole-heartedly in the existence of a soul in each stuffed animal, beanie baby, and other inanimate objects–probably the only social drawback from my obsession with Toy Story). In that spirit, I attempted to grant these beauties their final hoorah; hoping to glorify them for what they are–plastic and unplayable heroines.