I’ve been contemplating what’s life like for Barbie,
The bitch has everything she doesn’t need,
A genuine living doll … with baggage,
Prostituted for MATTEL Inc.’s greed.
To represent less than five percent of womankind,
Yet still be a role model for the young,
Have a twelve-inch waist, forty two-inch bust,
Be spoilt, indulged and highly strung.
I’d be wanton to be like Barbie,
The pin-up of playful men,
Action figures vying for my affection,
And (after considerable effort) winning it … now and then,
My company always sought after,
For camping, boating or horse rides,
The recipient of continual expensive gifts,
To ensure my presence at their sides.
I want to be like Barbie,
Accessorised to the hilt,
Handbags … jewelry… shoes … makeup … clothes,
All provided free of guilt,
I want to be more flexible,
A Barbie with bendy elbows and knees,
Because mine are beginning to stiffen with age,
I’m becoming more robotic by increasing degrees.
I want to be a life-size Barbie,
But I’ve probably left my run too late,
By the time that I’ve finished with cosmetic surgery,
I will have passed my ‘use-by’ date,
I could have all of the cellulite sucked out of my thighs,
And recycled onto my chest instead,
Lengthen my legs by eight inches,
But what would I do about my bloody head?
Although … if I really was like Barbie,
I’d never enjoy another hearty meal,
Forfeit pleasures of the flesh,
Maybe I’d forget how wonderful good sex can feel.
I wouldn’t have any nipples,
To tease, lick or suck,
I’d have a smooth crotch … closed smiling mouth,
No luscious warm wet openings to … fill (hmmm).
And if I truly was like Barbie,
Would you ever hear a word that I’d say?
Overwhelmed by my eye pleasing packaging,
Not renowned as an audio-visual display.
If I talked … would you listen,
Value my opinions … cling to my words?
A combination of intellect and beauty,
A disturbing Reality … Don’t be absurd!