When we give our children a doll, we present them with an unattainable blueprint by which to mold their bodies and ensnare their minds. Each small sacrifice made in the pursuit of this gross perversion, this artificial ideal, too often brings with it the praise and attention we so desperately crave. Charming as it is to hear, “Sweet Thing,” we delude ourselves into perceiving diminutives as empowerment—enrapturing the eye of desire. What we thought would bring us the ultimate satisfaction, to be coveted, proves itself to be an artifice, sticky as it is sweet—foreign to the touch.

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