Pachinko Guest Editorial
I guess life hasn’t turned out as well as I’d hoped
by Kendall Jenner
Guys! Guys! Listen. I’ve got something I need to get out of my chest. As you know, unless you're not tuned in at all, my parents are getting a divorce, and it’s really freaking me out. People say, “Kendall, what will you do now? Like, being the level-headed one and everything.” I just wanted everyone to know I’m okay and give some, like, hope for the girls coming up behind me. But now I’m not sure.
I know people look up to me and I carry a great sense of responsibility for how I conduct myself and such, but I’ve gotta say that lately it’s become real clear that life literally hasn’t turned out as well as I’d hoped.
My legacy family has sort of taken all the fun out of being part of it. Years ago, in 2011 or something, life seemed like a big beautiful kandy kolored banquet. We had our own TV show, and a chauffeur drove me to school, and mom used to play that game where she comes out of the shower in front of Kim’s boyfriends. But now I’m like, older and wiser, and what’s left? War, and designer outfits at mass market, and Lena Dunham. I feel like maybe I’ve been left behind, like I was literally born in the wrong era. I would’ve liked the 1980s, when Kennedy was president and everything.
The girls in my family try our best to literally each be our authentic selves, just like the Beatles and the guys carved on that mountain in Colorado or something. Being confident and authentic is so important, you know? But somebody double-dipped in our authentic pool. “Kim’s the sexy one, Khloe’s the big-boned one, and Kourtney’s the old one.” Me? “Bruce’s oldest.” Guys! I thought there’d be more than that. Maybe if my name was Kardashian. Then at least I’d have that “K” thing going for me even though it hasn’t done that much for Rob.
I’ve asked my family therapist, “where’s MY legacy?” I’ve got mentors with their own legacies like Paris and Lindsay, but I’m literally always lumped with Kylie, which is like dragging around a dead Siamese twin. I don’t want to end up as a Page 15 Girl in OK! Magazine. No way. I’d rather date a guy who wears Dockers.
Look, being pretty and sexy and having perfect skin and being a size 0 and dating most of One Direction (Zayn, are you listening?) doesn’t make me immune to sadness. We’ve had our share of tragedy. Rob’s weight gain was horrific, and Kim’s psoriasis almost tore the family apart. And don’t get me started on my dad’s Adam’s apple. If it hadn’t been for Kanye’s tender guidance and putting all of us first, I’m virtually sure that we wouldn’t have been picked up for a 10th season. Face it—the glory years are so over. Who grabbed my brass ring? Probably Taylor Swift. Shit. I can say “shit” in this, can’t I?
Maybe I rushed into brand building before it had a chance to get its own momentum. Maybe I need to create a fragrance, or make a video with somebody who’ll go on to be a big YouTube star, okay? Maybe, maybe, maybe. Sometimes I feel like T.S. Eliot.
So to all the girls who see me as a role model—I’m sorry to let you down. Thank goodness I have a great singing voice. That’s what Mrs. Tilden said at pre-school when I kicked ass on “The Wheels on the Bus.” And I believe in following your dreams, unless your dreams are icky. You know?