When I was little I just couldn’t do without my “Bratz” dolls. They were the main occupant of my time. Every day I would come home from school to rush upstairs and create a story through my precious dolls. One day, my Bratz dolls would battle stuffed animals, the next they were onstage as pop-stars. It was the most fun I had ever gotten out of any of my toys.
My precious dolls had the long princess-like hair that every little girl dreamed of having. They displayed flawless makeup in the exuberant colors my six-year-old self loved.
While I had my dolls I became part of a whole new world where I was never alone, or in lack of excitement. That’s why sometimes I would feel like a doll myself. I remember once I snuck into my mom’s room, and when I came out I had covered my face with makeup, claiming that now I looked just like my dolls.
Without my dolls I wasn’t a pop-star, actress, or a famous athlete. My Bratz dolls gave me a second world that perfected each and every day.
This is Yasmin, who was my favorite of the Bratz dolls.