Can we talk about how Barbie ended?

Gentle reminder: Go see a gynae.

I'm sitting here in Long Island, New York, on a beautiful sunny day. It's morning, and I have my melting iced coffee (without sweet foam because Dunkin forgot both times) at hand. I have no time for lengthy think-pieces and dissertations on Barbie.

Not every day a 1,000-word critique. Sometimes just enjoyment. I watched Barbie on the day it came out. The 24 hours before it were chaotic and burdensome. I left a press trip from Snowmass, Colorado, heading towards New York (three hours away by plane). The journey took me 32 hours. You can thank the vastness of American states, traffic, storms, and Delta Airlines' incompetence. After day-long delays at Denver airport, Delta couldn't locate the pilot and had to cancel the flight until the next day (I'm not a tech genius, but if a man can fly a plane, he can operate a mobile phone to let folks know he won't be able to make it).

Anyway, I landed in New York at 6 pm and went off to watch Barbie at 9, bonded in pink with my fellow cinema-goers. My girlfriends and I opted for a theatre in Times Square, following the direction of other pink-clad girl groups. Watching Barbie was such an experience; the anticipation, the marketing, the unapologetic indulgence and reclamation of pink (yes, I've mentioned pink four times in this paragraph).

What got me was watching everyone's reactions to the film; laughter, tears, and mid-scene clapping. The only other time I had such an interactive experience was watching Spiderman: No Way Home, but this time without Marvel bros who take the MCU too seriously. It was fun and heartening to feel the universality of womanhood (though, of course, we are also unique to varying degrees).

Amid the think-pieces and conversations on Barbie's grip on feminism, whether it's anti-men (spoiler: no) and yes, it's still very much promoting Eurocentric beauty standards despite some token diversity, we're missing a vital scene! Barbie's trip to the gynaecologist!

This is not only a great punchline from writer Greta Gerwig but such an important reminder about women's health. I love that it's delivered at the end because sometimes it feels like women's films grapple with two possible endings; a love match or a career choice (and/or the most unsatisfying, cloying self-acceptance). Bleurgh. You can see this conundrum in Little Women where Jo spends much of the film and book talking about how there's more to women than just marriage, only to get with a guy at the end (what's a girl to do, be lonely forever?).

For Barbie, the endgame isn't Ken (thank God). It's just trying to be a woman (and trying is all you can do as a woman), making friendships and community, and getting a healthcare check-up. When I saw her leave America Ferrera's car in an oversized blazer at the end, I thought 'oh no, is she going to work for Mattel or something?' But it was better, it was the gyno's. And it reminded me, I need to book myself in for my second cervical screening (or pap smear, for the Americans).

As someone who has delayed their second screening, I'm reminded to do mine ASAP, and when I get back to the UK, I actually have an appointment with a gynae. And I really urge others to do the same, especially, as the NHS reports a huge chunk of people are not going to get checked out.

In January this year, the NHS issued a call for anyone eligible for cervical screening to come forward for a potentially life-saving appointment, with nearly a third, around 4.6 million, not taking up their latest test.

So while yes Barbie won't solve real-world problems and offers feminism lite for the masses, let her at least serve as a reminder to get checked out, for gals and guys.