what it takes to be a walking doll

 alluring strokes pave my face,
thick, dense, masking its grace,
the brush carefully begins to trace,
curving a smile fitting their taste.

tousled and teased goes my hair,
tangling onto curlers on-setting its flare,
inhibition and hairspray drowning the air,
framing my face to this frivolous affair.

skin glistening its artificial gleam,
spanx tummy-tucking underneath skirt seams,
breasts pushed up as far as my self-esteem,
mannequin fingertips red, reigning supreme.

forbidden winks and stares befall,
stilettos illusion my height so tall,
hungry mouths lingering to call,
all in taboo over a painted doll.