@futurebird It's the late 1960s and my dad is buying me a lunch box for first grade. We were at a rural five and dime, and the selection was small, behind the counter.
My father fought in WWII. Yet he picked a soft-sided lunchbox because it seemed less likely to hurt someone than the metal ones. It was a Barbie lunch box.
I burst into tears—the absolute ridicule I would face! When I finally was able speak, I let him know the problem, and he chose something else.