When I was a little girl, I realized that barbie was lame, and dolls were boring. I would much rather be riding on the back of my brother's '2003 Yamaha blaster'. I was too small to drive it, but being a passenger was much more exciting. No worries of stalling, or the person behind you clenching onto your sides, squeezing the life out of you.
Sleep was one of my last priorities, as well as sitting quietly in my rose-pink room playing with inanimate objects- as known as barbie. How pathetic? I absolutely hated my birthdays, because all I got was barbie jeeps and barbie houses and amphibian barbie who had braided hair. Braided hair. If you took it out, her hair was forever traumatized. Ridiculous.
I ended up with a personality of a boy, but with two older brothers you get that, along with all of the times you chase each other through the house for eating the last Nutty Bar. Barbies and dolls will never make you strong, mentally or physically, but having two older brothers will.
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1 comment:
haha i loved the second stanza. traumatized hair, that is clever.
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