I grew up without Barbie.
My friends had a litany of dolls.
Bridgets, cabbage patches, kens,
I had small books
Anne of Green Gables,
I had gardens where I danced
And searched for Fairies.
I had tea parties, painting,
Coloring, and croquet.
I had sun tea, not ice tea.
I was without.
We had Barbie- Ques
Where we ate hotdogs
And raced the dog down the beach and into the ocean.
We had second hand clothes
that we climbed mountains in.
We had summer walks
Along the beach to the watch the sun slide down into the water.
We had vacations that lasted more than 2 weeks.
I did not have Barbie,
Poor Barbie left on a shelf
In Toys R Us.
She was perspiring.
I said Mom, "Why don't we have more toys?"
My mother said
"Because we can't afford them.
Now why don't you enjoy the sunset?"
On the way down the mountain she
Showed me how to pick mustard leaves
My mom was always there.
She was not Barbie.
I asked her,
"Why can't I have a Barbie?"
She said, " I don't want you to have
Unrealistic expectations of how a woman
Is to be or how a woman should look."
I said, " I hate you. Everyone has a barbie but me."
"One day, you will realize how lucky you are," she said.
I lived without Barbie.
I spent time with my mom instead.
I have been lucky, indeed.