As a woman, you can’t look at that face without seeing the façade, but as a girl, it would be easy to convince yourself that such perfection exists.
I don’t think my tiny little defense of KJ is proverbially wiping her tears late at night—I doubt she’s even crying. It’s more about getting people to rethink WHY they get so riled up by some lithe young woman who’s totally killing it.
Do you roil at the thought of Kim’s fame-ass? Make fun of those who dare to dabble in taking pictures of their own, imperfect façade? Take a moment—lay back on a couch, perhaps, therapy-session style—and think honestly about why that might be.
Why do I care about Paris this weekend? Because it’s playing host to THE wedding of our time, during which all things good and holy [“I am a God”] and branded with that infamous K will unite once and for all.
“Never, ever smile for a guy who asks “why aren’t you smiling?” Because I don’t want to, and my vagina doesn’t come with a permanent smile, shithead.” And more real-talk-ridiculousness, after the jump.