Barbie Doll by Marge Piercy

This poem is great. It reminded me of Rupi Kaur, who I wrote about in a previous blog. It was so similar to her comedic style of writing and gave off her exact sarcasm. I already analyzed this poem for my oral presentation, so I'm just going to go through the experience I had while reading it and how I correlated it to my own life. I was never given Barbie dolls as a kid, mainly because I thought they were boring and stupid. So, my parents started buying me Monster High dolls because I thought they were unique and cool and gave out a great message of "Be yourself! It doesn't matter what you look like." But in reality, it's kind of like the same as Barbie. Every doll has a small waist, small thighs, a perfectly proportionate face, and LOTS of make-up. Those dolls were my favorite things ever. I played with them every single day, I watched all the cartoons and movies that went alone with them, and I was constantly begging my parents for new ones. I was definitely a little spoiled when it came to the dolls, so I got one every time we went out to the store. A couple years ago, I had to put them all into bags and put them in my attic before my parents started to renovate my bedroom, so I counted every single doll. I have 90 of them currently sitting in my attic. I don't think I'll ever give them away because they do send off a bad message, but I also want to be able to share the experience I had with my niece and future children. 

While I was reading the poem, it made me think a lot about how my parents raised me. My parents always taught me to love my body growing up and were super supportive of whatever I wanted to do. They were never judgmental and trusted me to make good choices. I was a but chubby throughout elementary school, but who can blame me? A girl loved to eat! That was until I entered middle school with all the chub. I was bullied constantly, which sent me into a horrible eating disorder. I struggled with that until my freshmen year of high school, when my parents started to notice and I was going through some really bad stomach issues (come to find out I was diagnosed with GERD, IBS, acid reflux, celiacs disease, and a lactose intolerance. my body is a mess!). They sat me down and had an almost 2-hour conversation with me about how food was supposed to my friend, not my enemy and how my body is mine and mine only, so I had to cherish it or whatever. I was a 14-year-old kid who hated listening to my parents, so I didn't. Then Covid came around and I was stuck in quarantine with my mom and dad. They basically force fed me for about 3 months and then I started to get back into eating 3 meals a day and taking care of my body. I never really fully recovered from the eating disorder; I'll find myself slipping back into my old ways of going 2 days without food (yikes, I know), but I love food again. I'm a food girl and I love trying new things, so it makes me happy to know that younger me would be proud that I got through my struggle. So basically, this poem meant a lot to me.