I Dont Want To Be Barbie Poem by Kat Smith

I packed away my dolls

barbies

Polly pockets

and Bratz

I look at their flawless faces
and remembered being promised that

I remember the boxes all implying

''play with me, you’ll learn to be beautiful one day''

and now I’m walking to the mirror to see what the truth has to say.

I remembered placing my fingers on my sides and trying to get the tips to touch

I remembered the pain that I went through to squeeze and squish it that much

I picked up a beautiful barbie
stick thin, hair flipped, skin caramel dipped

my mind was a daze with the lies, I remembered the impression

''you’re going to look like barbie, or be damned to lonely depression''

I looked in the mirror and compared, myself to the plastic plaything

my hair was red and wavy

her's was blonde and didn't look like an ocean tide

I look at her tiny waist line, granted i assumed it was to scale

yeah, I looked at her tiny waist line

And then I compared it to mine

I realized how different we were

me and this plastic doll

I realize that in real life

I could be this doll

I could die my hair blonde

I could throw up whatever i ate

I could buy products and kits

to make me pretty again

then I realized something funny

poor barbie

poor doll

everyone thinks she fun when they're playing with her

then they move on to newer things

then barbie gets old

and then she's not having much fun at all

I didn't want to be barbie

played with

then thrown away for newer versions of me

all I wanted to be

was

completely imperfect me