I must admit to a fixation or sort of fascination with you the the rest of your famous family. I say I’ll never watch another episode, but later find myself in parked in front of my computer monitor, eyes glazed and red, watching show after show. Why can’t I break my addiction? Why do I need to know where you went on your last vacations (Montana! St. Barths!), the details of your new apps and fashion lines, your hair and make up secrets? I’m in my thirties for goodness sakes! Aren’t I too old for this? Thankfully, I think I’ve finally figured out the answer, after much self-reflection.
When I was a girl, I had a massive collection of Barbies. They were all glamorous, and led glittering exciting lives in worlds that I created on the floor of my bedroom. Fights over relationships (I only had one Ken), massive parties, beach vacations, movie premieres, multiple daily wardrobe changes, lavish weddings. When I was a teen, the Barbies were put away and I moved on to dramatic teen movies and shows, Clueless, Beverly Hills 90210, Malibu Shores. The lives of these fictional “teens” were nothing like mine. They went to high schools that served sushi in the cafeteria, where the kids went surfing on their lunch break and had thousands of dollars to spend on designer clothing each week, where their only problem was what kind of car their parents were going to buy them for graduation or showing up to the school dance in the same ensemble as their nemesis. These shows became a haven for me. Anything that would transport me from my depressing, anything-but-glamorous adolescent life where I faced problems like sexual harassment, racism, and peer pressure, struggling to fit into an environment where I never thought just being me was enough. I retreated into myself as a way of self-preservation.
Those days are behind me and life is better now. I’d much rather lead than follow. I have a happy marriage, great friends, repaired relationships with my family. But I still think there is a bit of arrested development at play. I still love teen shows, Pretty Little Liars is my fave. I read YA novels. And I can’t kick my Kardashian addiction. Teens love me because I can debate plot points of all of their favorite books, movies and shows for hours. The ones their parents can’t bear to sit through. Maybe I’m trying to relive the adolescence that was stolen from me. Or maybe they just make me happy. So I’ve decided to embrace my addiction. As long as the Kardashians are on television (which I think will be a very long time) I will watch.
Plus, I’m dying to know what’s going to happen with Kourtney and Scott, if Lamar really ambushed Khloe at spin class and what you’re going to name your new baby boy! Like I said, I’m addicted.
Your loyal fan,