I don’t know about you, but I am so sick of hearing about Kylie Jenner’s lips. Are they real? Are they fake? “HA! I KNEW THEY WERE FAKE!” Why the heck do we care? The allure around Kylie and her family is absolutely insane. I keep asking myself and everyone around me why are they here, but that’s a can of worms I don’t have the energy to open right now. Plastic surgery isn’t a terrible thing nor is it the issue surrounding Kylizzle. The problem I have with it is her age. No seventeen year old should be going under the knife, ever. I think it’s unhealthy for her self-esteem and incredibly irresponsible for her parents to allow her to get any surgery of that type.
I remember when I was seventeen. I was chubby, incredibly shy and I wasn’t the best at choosing clothes. But now looking back, as an adult, that stage of my life really wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. Yeah I felt like Shamu, but I had great friends, I got good grades, and I was always surrounded by people who loved me. I was extremely awkward, but what teenager isn’t? Our teenage years were a strange time for all of us; we weren’t children anymore, but not quite adults either. But if there’s been any time in my life I’m grateful for, it would be those years. Hands down.
My teenage years were a time when I got to know myself. I found out what I liked, disliked, who and what I wanted to be, what I stood for and valued. I thank God I had legs like an ostrich, a short trunk, and got overlooked by the varsity football players. Why? Because while they were chasing after tail, I was reading and comprehending at a college level. While my classmates were obsessing over what to wear to homecoming, I was practicing my violin solos. And when all the popular kids were going to parties, I was doing a superb job of not becoming a teen mother (we had quite a few of those at my school).
Seventeen year old Shaniece hated her flabby stomach, stretch marks, and little boobs. Twenty-six year old Shaniece loves her curves, wears her stretch marks with pride (like tiger stripes), and is fully enjoying her small boobs because she knows when she has kids she’ll wish they were small again. None of those insecurities matter in adulthood. That’s what I wish I could tell Kylie. They’re just lips! You’re still wildly attractive! I’m not condoning what she did but there is something people are failing to recognize: Kylie’s been growing up in the public eye for a while now. What may seem like a dumb teenage insecurity issue to us is magnified exponentially in her case. She constantly sees the embodiment of how society says she’s “supposed” to look like in her older sisters. Everyone expects her to follow in their footsteps, to be as cool or chic as them. That’s an incredible amount of pressure for a seventeen year old to have to deal with. Now throw in the fact that her mother is whoring out the family’s privacy for a quick buck, her dad’s now public struggle with being transgendered, and a completely clueless twenty-five year old father of one who’s praying on her innocence. With all that going on in the environment around her, for Kylie Jenner, using lip fillers is as serious an offense as getting a speeding ticket.
I don’t fault her for wanting full lips, or going under the knife at all. Hell, if I could afford liposuction I’d suck the fat out of everywhere. Kylie’s a kid, the real problem here is irresponsible parenting. Let’s just call a spade a spade, people. If my baby girl came to me and told me how much she hates her huge thighs, I’d tell her that every brick house and fine mama jama needs a strong base to keep her grounded. From a young age, I’d teach her that every freckle, imperfection and flaw makes her special and is absolutely necessary. I would not feed into her insecurities and suggest she alter her appearance, which is the route Kris Jenner took.
We need to do a better job at teaching our young girls to love themselves, flaws and all. Everyone loves to claim that they woke up like this
(pun intended), but that just isn’t reality. We have this unhealthy obsession with perfectionism and pop culture feeds it. It sounds so cliche, but nobody’s perfect. No matter how hard your makeup bangs, how great you hair is on any particular day, or the superb level of fleek your eyebrows are on you will never be perfect, ever. And that’s ok. Every morning, I walk past the bathroom mirror as I enter the shower. Sometimes I stand there in front of it a little longer than necessary, stark naked, and stare. I look at my small breasts, my love handles (I call them handlebars), my thick thighs, my full backside and I say to myself, “Damn! I’m fine!” (quite loudly). I love the skin that I’m in, I love my flaws, I even love my little kangaroo pouch I get when I’ve eaten too much (my sister and I have coined this phenomena as a “food baby”). My awkward teenage years are to thank for that. I’m still awkward, and a little weird, but I own it. All my catch phrases, strange habits, and eclectic points of view are what makes me me. So yeah, I don’t give a hoot about Kylie Jenner’s lips. The tragedy in Nepal is more important than Kylie Jenner’s lips. Disbanding ISIS is more important than Kylie Jenner’s lips. And paying back Sallie Mae for my student loans is more important than Kylie Jennner’ lips. Imperfection is beauty, revel in yours.
Stay beautiful ❤