the pygmalion effect

I'm working on a new poem. The first one in a long time. I'm embarrassed to post my shitty first draft of it on the net- it seems kinda flighty and girly, but there are deep themes I need to explore- body image, self-creation and loss of identity.

The poem is about clothes. But it cannot just be about clothes. Basically this has been an idea I wanted to put to some thought form for quite awhile. I've been having a major crisis identity. This started after getting home from Kenya, but it got much worse over winter break. As a result, I've been dressing slightly differently, slightly better. And I really don't believe that someone is what they wear, but I act like it by my almost shame of not wearing my typical thrift store outfits anymore. I realized that I've labeled myself by what I wear.

I've created myself through my clothes. It kinda makes me sick. I don't want to create some image of myself that I want people to glorify. I want God to make me beautiful and radiate His glory.

And really, I have just been dressing for other people. There's a song Rosie Thomas sings that continually echoes in my head lately- "Paper Doll"

Tonight I'm like a paper doll
Dress me in what you wish I had on
And I will not say a thing
I'll just keep smiling

Here I am, wordless again
You dress me up different ways
Flat and thin
Speechless within
You dress me up different ways
And I just can't be sure I'll ever change

And I do not like the clothes I wear
I'd sooner throw them into the air
But I will not say a thing
I'll just keep smiling

Here I am, wordless again
You dress me up different ways
Flat and thin
Speechless within
You dress me up different ways
And I just can't be sure I'll ever change

Why is it now
You've cut me out
Of everything I was used to
Now it's not that I stand here with no choice
I will choose now to raise up my voice

Here I am, wordless again
Wordless again
And I just can't be sure I'll ever change

Tonight I'm like a paper doll
Cut from the page I once lived on
And I will not say a thing
I'll just keep smiling

I love this song. And it's funny how I can relate to it. Except no specific person is doing this to me- silencing me through changing who I am. I'm doing it to myself.

So now I don't know how this poem is gonna go. It's obviously gonna be a confessional poem, which are sometimes too preachy or sometimes too emotional. I don't want it to be either. That's kinda how it seems right now. To give you an idea, here's my shitty first draft:

My closet’s torn open,
Piles of bright colors
Fall on top each other
I rest my head upon a cashmere
And wonder what’s happened-
2 or 3 years of thrifting
replaced by corporate labels
the children of Indonesia
have suffered tearful hours
for me to rest my head
upon abundance
the guilt was sucked out
at some point when I
bought the second pair of boots

I’m recreating myself
Hoping my number one
Motive above any good
Intention will be appeased:
I want to be gazed upon
Like a blazen statue
I am my own pymalion
The effect I’ve created
has never ceasing
As thrift girl, I made myself
As posh girl, I made myself

What good is it to keep making and re-creating?
for a statue whose purpose is to be worshipped.
I have leaned on the wisdom of me
And the callous “what not to wear”

Dressed to the nines
I’m don’t feel very me
But was I really myself before?

See what I mean? The first stanza is OK. But the rest sucks. I need to "show and not tell." Any ideas?