Though I’ve never been a fan of Kim’s, I suddenly have an overwhelming sense of compassion for her armpits and the armpits of women in every grocery store in America who are being subjected to this magazine cover. I realize that Kim is probably gaining this weight so she can get some sort of Jenny Craig deal after that set piece of a breathing infant pushes its way through her Kanye Kanal. If she develops preeclampsia it won’t even matter because I’m sure the line between real life and Ryan Seacrest’s SimCity has completely disintegrated at this point.
For this exercise, let’s just assume at this point that Kim has no human emotions left. So, even if a close up of her armpit on a national magazine couldn’t crack through her exterior (which I’m assuming is just one big coating of gel nail polish and melted polyester) and hurt her feelings, it’s still hurting my feelings! I’m a size 2/4. I am not Rosemary’s Babying Ryan Seacrest’s devil child. And, yet, I think I have “fat armpits” or essentially, “vagina arms.” You’d never know because I’ve become skilled at flexing whenever my self esteem smells a camera within 15 feet of me, but if you caught me walking down the street in a tank top… there they’d be. Now, thanks to InTouch, I am reminded that fat armpits are a legit concern and I WILL NEVER BE SEXY AGAIN.
Women in hair salon waiting rooms don’t need to be reminded that there is another part of their body they can hate. You know that stupid Dove commercial where they bring in that “police sketch artist” or “actor” and then they try to pass off your low self esteem as your own fault?
It’s not your fault (here’s a great counter to that Dove commercial). Because you wouldn’t know to be self conscious of your arm pits if magazines didn’t show you a picture of a beautiful, pregnant celebrity, circle her fat like a sorority sister during Hell Week, and say “EWWWW SHE’S GROSS! YOU’RE PROBS GROSS, TOO! PLEASE CHECK OUT OUR CELLULITE CREAM AD ON PAGE 78!”
