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Rebecca is a midwestern, Jewish, only child. She believes in love. She apologizes when she's wrong. Her favorite food has always been Cheerios, but she just learned that she's probably allergic to gluten, so that's happening...
We, citizens of the world, love us some Kimye. We watch them. We tweet them. We insta-stalk them. We dissect and opinionate over their every move. We time our workouts to coincide with the daily E! programming schedule so as to catch the latest KUWTK rerun on our gym TVs because we don’t have adequate cable of our own….
Oh wait, we don’t all do that one? Just me? Cute.
I don’t think anyone denies that the union between this fashionable fame-bot and rapper-turned-self-proclaimed taste genius is anything short of a match made in Ryan Seacrest’s dreams. Kimye is a celebrity merger extraordinaire, always giving us common folk something to discuss, and after their recent nuptials, New York Post writer Candace Amos gave us her thoughts on just why exactly the Kimye marriage will stand the test of time. While Amos in fact promotes this union’s durability, she criticizes Kim Kardashian West for treating marriage like a business transaction.
Well honey, guess what…. Marriage IS a business transaction.
Logan Airport, the day after Christmas, is not an appropriate place and time for a complete emotional breakdown. That’s why I waited until we were trapped for six and a half hours on the plane.
Obviously.
Christmas-time is a season for family, fun, and manifested insecurities. Up until last holiday season, my typical Christmas was just about as Jewish as it gets. My bubbie would host a Christmas party catered with Chinese food, because the rest of America was celebrating, so why shouldn’t we? She’d say, “If we can’t shop, we might as well eat!” Personally, I think she just wanted a good reason to host a shindig. She loved a good party.
So, cut to two and a half years into dating my now-boyfriend, and the time finally comes for me to spend a real Christmas with actual Christmas celebrators, in his perfectly cozy Bostonian childhood home. This is the kind of home that you visit, and immediately feel like you’ve lived in for twenty years, and that freaked the shit out of me.
Rachel Zoe is a rail thin, international, workaholic with a naggy husband and a needy child, and I’ve never wanted to be anyone more. As high priestess of fashion world, she has maj style clout living in her Maxis like it’s nobody’s business, and reigning tirelessly as the front-row fixture at all shows fashion week. I mean seriously, once you’re best friends with Marc Jacobs, you’re just winning life.
Skylar, her metrosexually boho toddler, incessantly rocks the onesie/necklace/fedora look, and her hubby Rog is businessy and… well, we’re still on the fence with what exactly he does, but all of the best businessmen are kinda mysterious, don’t you think? #BartBass. As a young Jewish shopaholic myself, Rachel’s life is my ultimate fantasy. Under all that Chanel, Rach and Rog have an enduring marriage, that’s outlasted both time and all their reality show successish shit. In this century riddled with hook-ups and Groupers, this 17 year long relationship makes marriage feel like a vintage trend that’s all the rage. Rach and Rog harken back to that old relic of Jew on Jew matrimony, the path I always thought my life would take, you know, back before I switched to public school.
Giuliana Ransick may seem like your average skinny betch Hollywood hostess with the mostess, but oh man is she more. She has the strength of a lioness wrapped in the frame of a skeleton, and she knows how to work it. I’d probably be skeletal too if I had three+ TV shows, two houses across the country to maintain, countless awards shows to red carpet, was a wife, was a mom, had cancer, and lord knows how many other things.
Speaking of me, Giuliana and I have treadmilled next to each other at the Chicago health club she and her husband Bill frequent along with none other than my parents, so don’t worry guys, we’re essentially kin. As seen on their Style Network show Giuliana&Bill, the duo have it fucking all. He won The Apprentice, people! America is their playground, and good for them. Despite having seriously arrived, hardships still befall them.
It is these difficulties life’s hand slaps across their faces that allows us opportunity to see a healthy relationship at work. Giuliana and Bill’s marriage is such a success because, unlike most reality TV couples, they choose to wade through the misery all the way to the happily ever after. American reality TV showcasing a healthy marriage? Whatever, you already know I love it.
Bethenny Frankel mesmerizes me with her crass ass trap and her boozylicious cucumber vodka. I mean, all of her Skinny Girl drank is awesome, but lets be real for a hot second. Her cucumber vodka is seriously genius. Put that shit in a Bloody Mary, and get ready to love life like you never have. Bethenny is a workaholic city chick, my favorite flavor of person, and her divorce from Jason Hoppy is hitting me hard. As an avid Bethenny Ever After fan, the news was no shock. They were obviously on different planets near the end there, but even so, I wanted this marriage to work. This was the story of the suburban small town boy and the urban street-smart gal compromising the best parts of themselves in the name of love, a saga I know all too well. However, this particular personality melting pot coddled right on up, and I blame it on AP US History.
Compromise is America’s double-edged sword. In this land of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, people want the things to which they are by way of freedom otherwise entitled, duh. However, what they don’t stress enough in high school history class is that freedom exists for all, and the individual’s freedom is realized once it exists alongside the freedom of others. Basically, yay, you’re free, and sorry, so is everyone else. One of the underemphasized aspects in both a democracy and a relationship is the responsibility the individuals of that union have in upholding the rights of their fellow patriots/lovers.
Oh Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson! He stole my heart with that fantastic 98º track at the end of Disney’s classic Mulan way back when, and her pop music inspired many a dance party alone in my room at 11pm in front of my full length mirror. I watched their relationship blossom and wither on MTV’s Newlyweds during my early, angsty, love stricken teenage years, and boy did that ever fuck me up. In retrospect, my first encounter with these two cemented this truth in my mind…
When you move in with your boyfriend before you’re ready, everyone fights and love dies.
Granted, that was definitely a helpful point of view for high school me who was much too young to be falling in love, and obviously stubborn enough to do it anyways. I am a twenty-something now, and have grown up and out of needing this precautionary mantra. However, even though I am currently in real love, the kind that is light in your heart, and never comes up for discussion, I still deeply feared moving in with my boyfriend. This limiting belief was probably not entirely created by Nick and Jessica, but lets have fun for a minute and see what emotional road blocks they Did graciously provide my psyche.
Newlyweds, or Barbie and Ken: The Dark Ages as I like to think of it, ran for three seasons. For those three years of my life, I, a highschooler avoiding Biology lab write-ups and reading The Canterbury Tales, watched Ken guzzle down beer, sit entranced in front of the TV, and call out Barbie’s dumb blonde bullshit. Just as my dreams of having a boyfriend and falling in love were ripening, all I could see were flashing WARNING signs reading, DO NOT LET THIS BE YOUR LIFE.
The thing is, I love most reality television. Not a total shocker. I am just an honest to god American twenty-something. The weird part is, I’m also in a committed relationship of three years. Not your typical twenties MO for this generation of late lovers. Well… earlier lovers, late committers. How do I swing this alternative lifestyle? I’ve privatized my integrity and emotional growth, by indulging in televised reality drama and scandal in the comfort of my own home, such a luxury, thereby outsourcing my lessons in embarrassment, and lowering my risk of public humiliation. In layman’s terms, I watch reality TV to take a break from my own young life riddled with mistakes and emotional breakdowns, because it’s there and I can. I would also argue that this uniquely American luxury absolutely keeps my love life going strong.
Capitalist America created the perfect breeding ground reality TV shows such as Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Many people in this country value privacy. However, there are a select few, like the Kardashians, who do not. They have sold their privacy to the American public, and therefore are multimillionaires. This family makes so much money from selling their souls, because no one else really wants to. SUPPLY AND DEMAND PEOPLE. There is low supply of American privacy for sale, so there is high demand. I, the consumer, reap the benefits of the values we, myself and the Kardashians, do not share. I keep my privacy, something I personally cherish, while also learning the lessons available by way of a life exposed. I’m buying what they’re selling, and judging by the fact that reality shows are still alive and well, I’m not alone.
dahGRAMS
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