Cinderella: Long Hair Sex Doll (And My Brain on Autopilot)

The Box Arrived.

I Didn’t Expect to Feel…Nothing

There’s this weird, hollow thunk when a 77-pound package hits your hallway floor. Not heavy enough to break anything. Just—there. Unmistakable, but not dramatic. I remember thinking, “Well, that’s probably Cinderella.” It’s hard to muster excitement after three weeks of waiting for a sex doll you ordered on a whim at 2am—especially when your brain is operating somewhere between ‘checked out’ and ‘should I just eat cereal again?’

Anyway, the box was plain as promised. DiscreetPackaging is no joke; if my neighbor saw it, they’d have guessed gym equipment or an expensive lamp before a big boob silicone love doll.

Details That Stick Out (Or Don’t)

The first thing people want to know: yes, she’s curvy—the kind of proportions that seem mathematically unlikely outside of cartoons or certain corners of Instagram. Busty? Sure. Big butt? Definitely juicy in the way marketing copywriters love tossing around that word. Her bust clocks in at 30.7 inches (I measured because I’m thorough or maybe just bored), with hips at almost 38 inches.

She’s five feet tall and weighs about as much as an awkwardly-shaped suitcase filled with bowling balls and regret. Lifting her is not romantic; it’s more like wrestling with yourself about life choices.

Anatomy Class Was Never Like This

Let me get one thing out: these absolute sex dolls are engineered with more precision than some laptops I’ve owned. Movable steel skeleton inside—her joints actually bend without that creepy snapping sound cheap mannequins make.

Vaginal depth? Seven inches. Anal? A little less—6.7. If you’re curious about hole stats (and apparently enough people are), there you go.

Permanent make-up means she’ll never wake up looking rougher than you do after a night out—which, honestly, feels unfair sometimes.

Implanted eyebrows too—I poked them once just to check if they felt real and then immediately wondered what my life had become.

Shipping Is Weirdly Efficient

Three weeks isn’t fast-fast but considering she comes from halfway across the planet probably (I didn’t check), free international shipping is decent. Tracking updates read like cryptic fortune cookie messages (“Your item has left the facility”—which one?) but eventually she shows up without fanfare.

No logos, no labels screaming “busty silicone sex doll inside!” Just cardboard anonymity and existential dread if you stare too long at your purchase history.

Living With Cinderella (Sort Of)

You start noticing odd things after a while—a strand of long hair caught in your shirt collar hours later; the way her feet look weirdly perfect compared to yours; how permanent makeup doesn’t smudge even though everything else in your apartment does.

Sometimes I’d walk past her propped against the wall and think: “That’s over $1000 worth of silence.” She doesn’t judge your Netflix choices or complain about takeout containers piling up—but also never laughs at your jokes either.

Her steel skeleton holds poses better than most people hold conversations these days (maybe that says something sad). If you care about flexibility…well, all her joints move except for those tiny finger details nobody tells you about until it matters.

One Tangent Because My Mind Wanders

Once during a Zoom call for work—I swear this happened—I realized Cinderella was visible behind me on camera for half an hour before anyone said anything. Did they notice? Maybe not. Maybe everyone else was mentally checked out too—or pretending not to see things outside their own little rectangles.

It made me laugh quietly later—the absurdity of it all—and then wonder why we buy things like this in the first place.

Some Odd Realizations

Is owning a unique busty silicone sex doll empowering? Liberating? Or just another signpost along the road of modern loneliness dressed up as convenience?

Cinderella isn’t going anywhere unless I move her myself (not easy). She won’t age or change moods or ask why dinner is always pizza now—but sometimes that emptiness echoes louder than expected late at night when everything else quiets down except your thoughts bumping around like shoes in a dryer.

And yet—sometimes having something so carefully designed sitting there reminds me how strange desire can be when it collides with reality and ends up packed away discreetly in cardboard until next time someone needs company—or distraction—or just wants to feel something different for once, even if only briefly before zoning out again into whatever comes next…