Dear Beauty Head,
I'm so sorry that someone named you Beauty Head. I'm so sorry for how you have been portrayed. I can't imagine you are as happy as you peach shaded smile and wide, sparkled lashes are leading on. You must have massive amounts of frustration and possibly depression. Your emotions are concealed. They are tucked deep within your plastic membrane, and I'm writing you to tell you that i cant feel them.
I feel your pulsating rage and oppression that youwill never be able to express. I feel your overwhelming urge to shave your head and scrub off your touched face and eventually collapse in place with no audience to gawk.
Your hands are tired of posing so feminine-like and your cleavage is tired of being stared at. Your virgin skin is busting atthe seems, asking for some blemish, some toxin to let it identify as human.
You're disgusted with your permanent lavender eyeshadow and your plastic elastic jewelry that is supposed to make young girls happy.
I believe you were once perfect for this BeautyHead. I believe you thought it was a marvelous idea to be a symbol of beauty. But you have grown Barbie Head, and matured and you're ready to be freed.
With Great Understanding,
-Hannah
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