At 5 years old, I would have sold my soul to Satan himself for a slice of the Kitty kingdom, and such products naturally became my bribes and rewards of choice. Flu shot? A Hello Kitty bath toy. Strep throat again? A pack of Hello Kitty colored pencils. The photo of my first plane ride depicts me studiously coloring with my chubby Hello Kitty crayons.

Shiny, happy fun
I can’t even describe what it was about Kitty that made her so great. I don’t like cats, really – not that Kitty is a cat by any normal stretch of the imagination. I was not even extremely girly in the traditional sense. I hated Barbie and pink was not my favorite color. And yet, Hello Kitty somehow appealed to my girlish side. She was understated and simple: a plain white face with a small yellow nose and a red bow. And yet her products were diminutive. They were adorably packaged. They were colorful and fun. And maybe that’s just it. Hello Kitty was synonymous with fun. She still is.

It comes as little surprise to those who know me that my love of Kitty has continued. I have an adult-sized Hello Kitty bathrobe. As I type this, I am staring at a picture of Hello Kitty as Cupid on the back of my office door. A Hello Kitty birthday party garland, courtesy of my thoughtful editor, hangs above my head. My calendar currently shows July Kitty dolled up like a stunning combination of Wonder Woman and She-Ra Princess of Power, complete with a red cape, kicky boots, superhero wristlets and long blond hair. And I have a book of Hello Kitty haiku on my office coffee table.

What can I say? Professionalism is my middle name.

Naturally, I was elated to discover that McDonald’s is offering Hello Kitty Happy Meal toys. If you’re 4 years old or a child of the ’80s who simply refuses to grow up, you know what big news this is.

I was at McDonald’s today, straining to see what kind of Hello Kitty toy was being offered this week when I realized the 6-year-old behind me was doing the same. It’s nice to see that, while much may have changed in 20 years, the fascination with Kitty has not. What this says about me – a 26-year-old shoving 5-year-olds out of the way to see the weekly Happy Meal toy – is something on which I’d rather not ruminate.

To my credit, I have only purchased one of the Happy Meals. I received a Hello Kitty compact. I was thrilled. I lamented to co-workers that the enclosed lip gloss wasn’t that moisturizing and they calmly explained that it’s meant for toddlers, not twentysomethings.

Point taken.

Kitty in the family tree
The absolute best part, though, was the Happy Meal bag. It is done up with Hello Kitty faces and hearts and suggestions like “Write a letter to your friends and family and sign it ‘xoxo with hugs and kitties.’” It also contained a bit of Kitty family history, facts I had not known despite my years of slavery to Sanrio, the parent company that manages the Kitty cache. You can imagine my excitement when I read “Hello Kitty’s real name is actually Kitty White. She got the nickname Hello Kitty because she is so friendly. Make up a nickname for you and your friends.”

Kitty White? Kitty White! It’s like finding out your idol is your long-lost sister. I can’t believe we share the same last name! I’ve been on Cloud Nine ever since.

I’m ashamed to admit that I only just visited the Sanrio.com site. I was a bit disturbed to find a trollop-looking Hello Kitty in an off-the-shoulder top and go-go boots on the front page. This is part of the problem with the resurgence of Kitty’s popularity. The few times I’ve seen Paris Hilton with a Hello Kitty rhinestone necklace on, I’ve wanted to choke her with it. Kitty White is sweet and fun-loving! Kitty wouldn’t be caught dead driving with a revoked license. Kitty also does not endorse being dumb. (I know this because I recently had to convince myself not to buy a Hello Kitty T-shirt emblazoned with a print of Kitty and friends reading. The shirt read “Reading is FUNdamental!” Even describing the shirt has me regretting passing up the purchase.)

The site redeemed itself when I found a link to register for a Hello Kitty Platinum Visa credit card. Ooh baby. It’s Kitty credit for girls who refuse to grow up. I like it!

Friend of few words
I admit it’s all a bit strange. It’s not that Kitty has any kind of backstory. Her star didn’t rise because of a movie role or a book about her. She started as a stationery character, a mere face on a piece of paper. She now has her own humidifier, where steam comes out of her ears. (I don’t own it – yet.)

So what’s the fascination? How could she captivate the hearts of young (and not-so-young) girls since 1976? I’m not sure. In my case, it probably h

as to do with the fact that, as I’m only just noticing, she doesn’t have a mouth.
I always knew Kitty was a good listener.

And now, I can’t wait for my Hello Kitty Visa to arrive. I thought it was bad when interviewees would remark about how I keep my recorder in a quilted and sequined Hello Kitty cell phone case or how, when I’ve run out of yellow-ruled tablets, I’ve sometimes resorted to a Hello Kitty notebook. I always try to quickly flip away from the notebook cover which features cupcakes with Hello Kitty heads on them. Inevitably my interview subjects notice that the friendly folks at Sanrio, ever-attentive to detail, have included pink Hello Kitty heads in the corner of every lined page. A few times individuals have leaned over and said, “Oh! My daughter absolutely loves Hello Kitty! She’s 4 years old.”

Now imagine how fabulous it will be for me to take someone out for a business lunch, maybe nosh on a few crab cakes at McCormick & Schmick’s. When the bill is placed on the table I can gently wave my hand, place my card on the tab and say, “This one’s on Kitty,” as she waves back at my guest from the friendly confines of my pink plastic Visa card. That’s one classy Kitty.