Attack of the Big Headed Girls Part III – Polly, the White Trash Hillbilly Cousin

“Please buy my sunflowers so that I can afford to eat something other than the potentially poisonous mushroom behind me.”

The Crystal Gayle inspired braid practically begs for a shampoo.

 

 

They just keep coming! Three! There are three of these big headed girls in my closet now. I’m afraid that having all three of them together will open up some sort of hell dimension ruled Bratz dolls.

Polly gives us a chance to analyze hillbilly stereotypes.  The most disturbing thing about Polly, other than her very existence, is her braid. Her extra-long locks play into hillbilly stereotypes nicely, implying that she may belong a fundamentalist religion that does not allow women to cut their hair. She is also peddling flowers on the road, unlike her cousins Molly (who lives in a comfortable house in town) and Dolly (who, while slutty, is clearly of the more genteel variety of country folk). She is however the only big headed girl shown outside the home, so perhaps she is a feminist attempting to support herself through entrepreneurial  flower sales.

Oh big headed girls, your possibilities are endless. You expand the mind.

Mostly, however, you prove the extent to which your own minds have already expanded. Which is the second reason that braid is so important. Molly and Dolly have all their hair under their bonnets, so it is possible that they have normal sized heads and that their uncut hair is piled up under the bonnet making it appear enormous to the point neurological concern. Polly’s braid is not contained… yet her bonnet is still huge… you can do the math.

Yep, they are inbred ginormous brained country gals. Run for your lives!!

The Unholy Trinity of Molly, Polly, and Dolly. I have contained them in my closet to prevent the havoc they will thrust upon the world. You’re welcome.

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Meet Dolly, Molly Mobbie’s Tarted Up Country Cousin

Oh Molly Mobbie, just when I thought you were the most wonderfully kitsch thing I’d ever receive, Amy had to go and give me your cousin. Your country cousin with precisely applied jet black eyeliner and bright red lipstick, giving her a certain smutty adorableness. Unlike Molly, who is hiding her enormous head under a bonnet with a very trendy bow, Dolly has a simple polka-dotted ribbon adornment that matches her apron. While both Molly and Dolly have gigantic noggins and feline companionship, Molly – being the citified cousin – gazes appreciatively/psychotically at the grandfather clock in (presumably) the parlor of her townhome in the state capitol. Dolly is stuck spinning yarn on some barely settled prairie.

Luckily for Dolly, she was painted by a different Holly-hobbyist.  How do I know, aside from the obvious difference in quality? Once again, this creation was signed by the crafter. A crafter who had the ingenuity to add details using felt-tip pens. Dolly is actually very well executed artistically – she’s just still really, really tacky.

Were ‘paint your own’ Holly Hobbie knock-off kits a bit of a trend in the 1970s? Can a reader answer this? And by ‘reader’ I mean ‘one of our moms.’  How else can I explain that there are two big-headed girls currently residing in my closet?  And now that this is a potential trend in the ugly gifting world I have to keep them both for a few months just in case I have the opportunity to do a formal family photo later.

Tick Tock, Tick Tock, It’s the Real Doomsday Clock

Such unnaturally blond hair, and WIDE eyes.

Such attention to detail, every flower in the basket behind her is painted.

The clock works. It keeps perfect time. But, this lovely little gift that I received for my birthday is about a year older than me. Conveniently the artist included the date in her signature. Yes, this piece of crap is signed. I’m sure in the mid-seventies this Holly Hobbie knock-off was the most awesome thing in some little girl’s room. The purple dress and bonnet even have a subtle sheen.

But what really creeps me out is the wide-eyed stare of Molly Mobbie. I keep expecting this ceramic resident of the village of the damned to solve a puzzle box and grow up overnight.

Needless to say she resides in my closet… until she can be set free at my local Goodwill. Then she can go live in another damned village.