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She’s inspired more love, hate and jealousy than Helen of Troy (but without the nasty side effect of war). She’s made the imaginations of girls and boys run wild. She’s survived feminist firestorms, Skipper and beheadings by brothers everywhere.

Barbie.

The little plastic doll with proportions so fierce she’d fall over if made out of human flesh turns 50 today. For half a century girls have played with the blond bombshell, boys have tortured her and mothers’ have fretted about her status as a role model.

My favorite Barbie memory isn’t one of playing with the doll. I don’t remember any little voices I made for her and her friends or adventures on which I sent her. No, what I remember most about my childhood collection of Barbie dolls is that I did not want to let the neighborhood boys see her indecent. I remember them coming over to play in third grade and being absolutely mortified that I had a naked Barbie doll in my room. I probably tried to shove her under the bed as not to corrupt the dignity of the doll. I mean, come on, there were 8-year-old boys just feet away and Barbie was just as naked as a jaybird. Some how this seemed to embarrass me more than Barbie, who didn’t so much as blush, but in the end I knew she would thank me. Can’t be too careful with young boys — I knew quite well that my mother’s older brother beheaded her Barbies back in the early ’60s. Why would the boys of my generation be much different?

In any case, we all have our favorite Barbie memory. What’s yours? (And please don’t say that dumb “Barbie Girl” song that’s bound to get a lot of air time today. Please, please be more creative than that!)