Kim Kardashian’s ass looks amazing on Instagram. I wouldn’t touch her even if I had Kanye West’s penis in my hand, but she gets a “gon’, girl” all the same. Still, all I could think while looking at her big post-pregnant body reveal was, “I’m so sad for you.”
Not because she’s still setting thirst traps. She’s a new mom, proud of her body transformation, so I don’t judge her for her choices and buy into any silly notion about what constitutes “appropriate behavior.” I’m more irked that I feel as if her entire life and career are all built getting public approval, or more specifically, the approval of a man, which has her currently bearing little resemblance to what made her mildly tolerable to me and hugely successful for most.
At the age of 32, despite building a media empire that’s led to successes into fashion and beauty brands, she has since morphed into essentially Kanye West’s personal blow up doll. As great as her post-baby body looks in a swimsuit, I’m all but certain that another Instagram shot will consist of her being stuffed into some ill-fitting gown as she poses next to Kanye, who’ll probably be in another designer sweater, slashed jeans and Timbalands. Frowning.
It’s not surprising to see how happy she is to be Kanye West’s Calabasas Barbie Doll, but it’s not any less annoying.
For those of us who watched (or at least used to) Keeping Up with the Kardashians, we saw Kanye West go on her show and tell her that her style needed to be changed to his liking. Never mind that Kim Kardashian was a stylist before ever meeting him or at that she has built a career around her taste level. It was one of the creepiest things on television, mostly because Kim stood there and allowed it.
For the life of me, I don’t understand it. Why are you trying to look all high fashion and European when your body doesn’t fit that aesthetic, and more importantly, your brand is built around accessibility to people with limited budgets? Ergo, why you sell clothes at Sears versus Bergdorf Goodman.
Why are you still wearing Givenchy when you’ve already been clowned for wearing Grandma’s Couch Couture at the Met Gala? Why are you walking around looking like Beyoncé in drag? Why are you so desperate for validation from a world that will always look down on you? Better yet, why are you taking advice from a guy who despite his entire fashion world connects – including his creative director BFF (although based on these “lewks,” I wonder whether Riccardo Tisci is mad he’s not North’s mama) – he’s out here publicly whining about being shunned?
Maybe I’m not so sad for her as I am that so many young people look up to them as if they’re some standard when they come across as two shallow, insecure people clamoring for the approval from those they don’t even need as they’ve already built their own platforms. You would think that trope would no longer by the ideal by now, but it’s stronger than ever. That’s the saddest part of it all.
Michael Arceneaux is from the land of Beyoncé, but now lives in the city of Master Splinters. Follow him at @youngsinick.