Jessica Puente

Whether you realize it or not, you care about what’s hot.

Just like Disney taught us to believe in prince charming and being best friends with a monkey is completely normal, we’ve been taught what is generally attractive.

I’m not writing this to point out how the media has been brain-washing us and that is why a young girl committing suicide made headlines only because she talked about it on Twitter. I’m not here to blame you or the magazines I buy to remind me of all the things I hate about myself. I’m just here to tell you why I compulsively and shamefully “keep up” with the Kardashians.

It’s been almost ten years since I was dubbed a teenager and segregated into this covey of people who society agreed to accept were irrational, explosive and OK  to ignore completely.

In those ten years, I watched a lot of things. Sitcoms, reality shows, love movies, horror movies, comedies, romantic comedies and I poured over Seventeen magazine like it was the map to the eighth wonder of the world.

I didn’t realize it at the time but every picture I looked at was stored in my brain for future use. I was unaware at the time but my brain had a mind of it’s own and was planning full-body control. One day, out of the blue, it began to draw a picture. It knew my weakness of daydreaming. In the claws of a prosaic government class, I sunk defenselessly into the quick sand that is my mind’s imagination.

There was a reoccurring theme in my daydreams. The perfect features. What people should look like. What was beautiful. I started to notice more and more people around me and even begin slapping features from different people together to make them “prettier”.

That Danielle would be so gorgeous if she just had Allison’s nose don’t you think?

I feel so bad for Miranda. She has an almost symmetrical face. She should really find out if she can get that mole moved a quarter of an inch closer to her ear.

Remember, I have acknowledge this was an age of irrationality, instant-satisfaction and binge-drinking. Three things that refuse to play well with torrents of ferocious hormones.

For the longest time, whenever I would indulge in the mild-stalking/worshiping of the current object of my love, I was forced to watch him ogle other women! Oh the pain.

Cry Baby gave us Amy Locane, setting the stage for the age old question, “Can I pull off being a blonde?” The answer is no and should generally be no if you really have to think that hard about it.

Edwards Scissor Hands gave us Winona Ryder and more excruciating thoughts.

You will never be blonde. Johnny Depp will never love you. Pretty sure every boy that looks at you thinks you are bald because you aren’t blonde so your hair is invalid!

I can go down the list and it is basically hot, lean blonde after hotter, skinnier blonde co-staring with my man.

So what does this have to do with Kim K? She made me realize that Jasmine can kick Cinderella’s ass and I can kick my brain’s ass for trying to tell me differently.

Kim has brown eyes, brown hair, big curves and she is absurdly hot. Now I look nothing like her, but I also don’t have blonde hair or blue eyes or enough duct tape to hide my big behind in a pair of tight jeans.

You can be pretty and not a mold. Writing this, it seems like an obvious and simple truth. But it isn’t. And anyone who has ever felt like they would look better if they just had those green eyes that are so sought after in the modeling world, or two more inches in height so they can be anatomically correct like Britney Spears know how easy it is to actually believe there is a mold for beautiful.

So thanks Kim for not being blonde, flat and green-eyed.

P.S. I did not forget about Bradley Cooper. There is only one reason anyone needs to obsess over this man. And here it is.