Hi. My name is Becky and I have a secret… If I tell you, you have to keep it to yourself. Promise? Pinky swear? Ok. Here goes.
I can’t get enough of the Kardashians.
I consider myself to be an intelligent, cultured woman with a passion for literature. I rarely wear make up, I’m terrified by the concept of contouring and my eyebrows only get waxed for special occasions. I’d rather be outdoors than slouched in front of the telly, and historical documentaries, TED talks and nature programmes make up most of my Netflix history.
Not your typical Kardashian devotee.
But for some reason, I can’t seem to tear myself away from their strange, self-obsessed world. I want to know how Kourteney is going to react to the next dickish move that Scott makes, to find out how Kim’s second pregnancy is going and what on earth her and Kanye will call the poor soul, I got a kick out of seeing Kris’s reaction to Caitlyn (and how gorgeous she is! Those legs. Wowzers.) and I feel the need to stay tuned to see whether Rob will ever make a reappearance.
It all started earlier this year when I’d watched all the David Attenborough shows available on Netflix, Game of Thrones had finished and I was in desperate need of a new programme to binge watch. I had caught a bit of KUWTK whilst channel hopping and that was all it took to get me hooked. Like the first cigarette that doesn’t make you hack your lungs up, or that second glass of wine where you think you might as well finish the bottle, and what the hell, open another one, Kim, Kris and all the rest had me in their clutches and resistance was futile.
I watched all ten series of the original show in around three weeks. It was my proverbial bottle of vodka stashed in my gym bag and I was ashamed.
I had to justify it to myself and after a lot of thinking, I came to the conclusion that the reason I can’t get enough was that underneath all the photoshoots, exotic no-expense-spared holidays and paparazzi chases, it was essentially a show about family. Like the rest of us, there are tantrums, tears, laughs and love, and that is relatable for most people. Like Kim, my crying face is hideous. No elegant single tear rolling down my cheek for me, it’s all blotchy cheeks and snot everywhere. So much snot. Just like the rest of the real world, although most people don’t generally have their ‘best crying moments’ going viral on the internet…
Sure, there are situations and conversations that are clearly set up for entertainment purposes but at the heart of it is a real family, facing real problems and overcoming them. I mean, who hasn’t had to decide whether or not to pose nude for Playboy and have their Mum angling to do the same?!
Yes, there is an obscene amount of wealth on show but for me, that gives me an hour of escapism from my cash-poor student existence, imagining either an alternative lifestyle of private jets and champagne on tap, or thanking my lucky stars that while I may be infinitley worse off money wise, I also don’t have the problems that come with being filthy rich. No-one cares when I step out of my front door, or how big my ass is, I’m highly unlikely to ever break the internet and for that I’m grateful.
So there it is, my big secret.
My name is Becky and I’m a Kardashian-aholic.
