Christmas 1996 was the last year there was a doll under the Christmas tree for me. The year before, I only wanted to continue my collection of Disney dolls, even though Pocahontas convinced me that the Disney company had a screw loose.
And then Disney released The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I had already read the book, expecting it to be like Poe, and it went over my head, big time. To innocent me, it was the most bafflingly awful, pointless, drawn-out, horrible thing I had ever read. I didn't want to see the Disney movie, I didn't want the dolls, Disney and I had officially parted ways.
Some relative, I can't remember who, bought this without asking, just presuming I would want it. This might count as one of the least-loved gifts of all time. It doesn't help that her gimmicks suck, her dress is hideous, and her thumb broke off before I could free her from the twisty ties.
Dance, la Esmeralda, dance!
One year, a teacher decided to show it last period before spring break. The class found it hilarious for all the wrong reasons, and it was pretty forgettable.
The plot twist is that I read the novel as an adult, and ended up enjoying it more than a person really should.