Finally, Finally, Finally Your Kid's Dolls Can Get Their Periods

Lammily dolls, otherwise known as “Normal Barbies,” have been on the market since November 2014, offering a less anatomically freakish alternative to Mattel’s perky double-D model. And now, thanks to a new “Period Party” expansion pack, she’ll even teach your child about menstruation!

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According to the commercial above, featured in a Time article, Lammily creator Nickolay Lamm has bestowed a tremendous educational gift upon both parents and daughters alike. Without the menstruating Lammily doll, a girl may be forced to watch her mother twerk while dropping horrible beats about her daughter’s blossoming reproductive systems. “You’ll get eggs in your belly, just like Easter,” raps the mother in the video, while the father grimaces like a serial killer.

That performance would scare any reasonable woman into a premature hysterectomy, presumably making the Lammily doll, with her wee pads and underwear, seem super fun! As Lamm tells Ashley Ross from Time, “It’s just what happens in real life. We wanted to put it on a doll so it’s not a scary thing.”

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Moreover, after Donald Trump’s “bloody” comments about Fox News host Megyn Kelly and her own period, Lamm was further determined to normalize menstruation. To Time:

“I don’t want to make this a whole political project or anything, but I think when [Trump] said that it was just an example of the overall culture where menstruation is very taboo, and not only taboo, but some people use it as an insult.”

Of course, for all her period paraphernalia, Menstruating Lammily Doll does not actually bleed, relieving her caretaker of the true period experience, which is vigorously scrubbing your underwear in the bathroom sink.

Contact the author at rachel.vorona.cote@jezebel.com.

Video via YouTube.

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DISCUSSION

hatsforcats
AllieCat demands hats on cats-is probable weirdo

Ugh PARENTS these days.

Whatever happened to the good old days, when a girl would run out of the bathroom sobbing. “I’m bleeding-oh God I’m bleeding-am I dying?”

To which her responsible mother would put down her martini, hand the girl a pamphlet, and gently remind her (as a puff of lazy smoke curled out of her mouth) that it’s time to feel a healthy sense of shame about her body and place in the world.

Since when did that go out of style? The state of the world today makes me sick.