Welcome to the first support group meeting for Barbies with Cancer. Please help yourself to some Easy-Bake banana bread while I take a minute to introduce myself.

My name is Barbie, and a few months ago, I woke up with rock-hard jugs. At first, I didn’t think much of it because my tits are made of plastic. I mean my whole body is, but my tits especially. I went to the doctor just to be safe. Turns out the doctor was just me in a white coat—totally forgot that physician is one of my 250+ careers. Awesome. I had my assistant Ken help with the mammogram. It was pretty quick because the only equipment at Barbie Hospital is a stethoscope.

The test results were inconclusive, so I asked Mamma Barbie for help. She had bone cancer when I was little and had to get her legs removed. Now she’s a Polly Pocket. It was traumatic. Mamma knew right away that something was wrong when she felt a lump. At first, I was like “I think that’s just my nipple” but then I remembered I don’t have those. It was indeed a lump.

I’m not in remission yet, so my options are Barbie Chemo—3 rounds in the kitchen microwave—or a double mastectomy. I’m leaning chemo, but I heard radiation can give you all sorts of problems like proportionate legs, blinking eyes, and an anus.

Treatment is expensive, so I’m selling the dream house. Hopes are high—the housing market’s been in demand ever since Sally donated the Legos. Ken’s been trying to chip in by selling some of my pink hand-me-downs as merch, but the Breast Cancer Association™ is suing for copyright infringement.

The bright side of cancer is that I’ve got the perfect excuse for when Sally asks to play. Fucking Sally. Throws me around like I’m some toy for her amusement. I hope she gets breast cancer.

God, you guys probably think I’m a terrible person wishing that a 9-year-old gets breast cancer. You have to understand it’s only because I’m really scared and lonely. But more importantly, I don’t want to be the only one without tits. I guess Ken doesn’t have boobs, but he’s also a fucking idiot. So, who wants to go next?