A small confession. Every so often, when my husband is out of the house, and it’s only me, the dog, and a
bowl pint of ice cream, I watch Keeping Up With The Kardashians. I know, I know. It’s atrocious. It’s quite possibly the lowest form of entertainment one can find on TV, but something about that group of fun-sized Armenians makes it like watching a circus where everyone has really shiny, long hair. Also, Scott Disick.
Of course, we’ve all seen “the chosen one” (Kim) and her newest display of #Ilovemyselfsomuchitsunbearable when she posed her glossy buns for Paper Mag and “broke the internet.” My internet seems to be working just fine, so perhaps the shock value was lost on me, but I did share a reaction with most of the world: She’s someone’s mother.
My problem with Mrs. Kardashian West’s spread wasn’t the nudity. While I wouldn’t do it for all the money in the world, (Ok, that’s not true. I’d do it for all the money. But not a penny less.) if she’s comfortable stripping down for the world to see, I say, “Mazel,” and finish eating my donut. My problem isn’t that she’s naked. It’s that the photo is a complete misrepresentation of the female form, and not to mention, it’s a complete misrepresentation of Kim’s body. Of course, not long after the spread was released, the untouched photos followed suit. And she looks amazing.
Her rear, which has likely suffered through far more pilates than I could ever endure, has a bit of cellulite. Her hips, made virtually invisible in the published pictures, are not wide, but definitely make childbirth look as though it was at least anatomically possible. Her body looks beautiful. Her face looks uncomfortable and a little bit constipated. Likely, because this is a facade. It’s a story to sell to zillions of young men, but more importantly, to young women to convince them that it is possible to have two glazed donuts for an arse. I think Tina Fey put it best:
“Now every girl is expected to have Caucasian blue eyes, full Spanish lips, a classic button nose, hairless Asian skin with a California tan, a Jamaican dance hall ass, long Swedish legs, small Japanese feet, the abs of a lesbian gym owner, the hips of a nine-year-old boy, the arms of Michelle Obama, and doll tits. The person closest to actually achieving this look is Kim Kardashian, who, as we know, was made by Russian scientists to sabotage our athletes.”
A few weeks later, Kim’s eldest sister, Kourtney hopped on the nudity bus. (Try not to picture a bus full of nudists, y’all, I dare ya.) She stripped down for DuJour Magazine, and posed her nearly full-term pregnant body in all its maternal glory. This go ’round, my reaction to the photos differed immensely. Maybe because I’m also pregnant, or maybe because Kourtney is my favorite of the bunch. While the pictures have likely been airbrushed somewhat (If someone were going to photograph me in the preggo-buff, I would insist on a little digital touch-up), the changes must be minimal. The picture is a celebration of a less-than-perfect norm. Her hips are wider, her belly button is protruding, and she is stunning. The pictures aren’t tasteless porn, they’re art. They’re a depiction of a woman doing what a woman’s body was meant to do. They are pictures her daughter can look at one day and admire.
I’m not into bodily shaming, one way or the other. If you’re skinny, fat, skinny-fat, or a Victoria Secret model, I say “Go forth, and be sexy!” Unless, you’re Kendall Jenner, in which case, please just stop with the hotness already. The rest of us mere mortals are unable to keep up.