Her self-confidence is inspiring.
She wants, it seems, to have her cake and eat it too, which is probably a pretty apt summation of her MO for quite some time now. But, I’m not here to criticize. I’m here because Kim Kardashian has made me feel better about my own pregnancy. She’s been unapologetic and—seemingly—honest about some of the things that are especially tricky to talk about for any woman. “I gained 50 pounds and it was tough to get it off,” she toldC magazine about her pregnancy with North. I’ve had many friends who’ve been pregnant; none have ever offered a numeric measure of their weight gain. She’s been honest about her struggles with infertility―another topic that is too infrequently discussed openly. She’s spoken about how, during the first pregnancy, she felt pressure by some high-fashion folks to take risks with her style that might not have paid off. Okay, this is not a problem most women face, but it takes chutzpah to admit that your style suffered because of your pregnancy.
IT TAKES CHUTZPAH TO ADMIT THAT YOUR STYLE SUFFERED BECAUSE OF YOUR PREGNANCY.
This pregnancy, Kim has been very body-con, favoring clingy bodysuits and dresses that don’t play down her changing body, but celebrate it. And she’s gently chastised the people who “made fun of me, and posted the stories that were so awful, calling me fat for something I couldn’t control.” There’s that word: control. Kim seems to have intuited what it took me nine-plus months to realize, and even longer to accept: Pregnancy and motherhood are at least in part about letting go.
I don’t mean to diminish all the brave pregnant women who bared it before Kim and created some kind of precedent. But I’m taking special comfort in her f–k-it attitude and self-assurance these past months. Some of my admiration is due to timing. Last time around, I was basically on pace with Kate Middleton. Buttoned-up princesses make far less lively pregnancy partners. I had suspected that Kim’s and my pregnancies were progressing in tandem—turns out we share a due date! Baby Jesus, baby Yeezus, and my poor perpetually present-deficient kid.
I admire the women who insulate themselves entirely from external pressures regarding their appearance. I am not one of them. I am especially not one of them during times of uncontrollable change. Despite the superpowers that pregnancy cultivates—cars stopping more readily when you’re in the crosswalk, strangers going out of their way to hold doors and offer subway seats (just try refusing; it’s like you’ve broken the social contract)—it can also do a number on your self-confidence. Lord help me, I think Kim might just be reviving mine.
BY CHLOE SCHAMA