If you grew up in my orphanage you would know my story. This is the story of an ancient dolly that was a friend to everyone. At night I was cozy company but at daylight, a hairdresser’s client. I had many different styles being installed daily by little girls. Updos, short hair, buns and even bald. I rocked all styles and the girls and I shared a special type of confidence. They complimented me as their work of art and I made them feel good about themselves knowing that they were able to have a career as a hairstylist . Sometimes they relied on me as a mother or sister. We decided there was no need for parents or others, 14 of them and I made a family. Even though I wasn’t human, they included and made me feel alive. When they went outside to play, I had to stay indoors, away. That’s when I got to sleep, propped up on one’s bed steel. My purpose was to make them happy so I had been around for decades watching them grow, and go while new kids came in. I made many friends throughout the years and was popularly known as the comfort doll, a friend to all. I was brought to make those girls feel like anything was possible and convince them that this was Malibu but they refused to ignore the old food stains on the wall, the smell of the dirty mattresses and the slums that surrounded them.