For Shame

Pregnancy — the four times I enjoyed it — brought a lot of anxiety into my life. I was 27 when I conceived my firstborn. I had lived most of my life fearing report cards and test scores and admission letters and phone calls that told me whether or not I received The Job, just like anyone else. I had spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about my weight and which pair of jeans I could fit into at the moment and how others valued me on both a physical and intellectual level, as many women do. But pregnancy brought on an entire new category of judgment, perceived and real: how I wore maternity clothes, how much weight I gained, how I carried, how I coped. Then there were the details: how many orange or yellow vegetables I ate a day, whether I took my prenatal vitamin, if I practiced my kegels, if I ate sushi, if I drank caffeine or artificial sweeteners.

Thank goodness that all my insecurities were just perhaps a little neurotic, but normal. Thank goodness my name was not Jessica Simpson or, gosh forbid, Kim Kardashian.

I have been mortified at the way these young women have been torn apart in the media — and by “civilans” — for their pregnancy appearances and their pregnancy weight gains. The current fascination with and entertainment value of fat shaming Kim Kardashian, especially, is galling to me. I’m someone who has felt the discouraging despair of watching my breasts and stomach swell in that super-uncomfortable, not-fat-just-pregnant phase of pregnancy, before it’s completely obvious that you are either sheltering a basketball or a baby under your clothes but after the point you can wear your regular wardrobe. I have thrown bras down in frustration because they just didn’t do the job anymore. I have struggled with the desire to wear anything BUT a maternity dress and the hatred of the blasted belly panel that I can’t live without, because those newfangled maternity styles without belly panels just slid right off me. Nothing less attractive than a pregnancy plumber’s crack, my friends.

I understand that America does not feel warm and fuzzy about Kim Kardashian or her family at the moment, given their track record for exploitive reality television and obnoxiously extravagant weddings for marriages that lasted for mere weeks. I’m not trying to defend Kim or her family on a personal level, though I would point out that they would not be famous without the explicit cooperation of the American viewing public. But for as many adjectives as you may throw at Kim Kardashian, she’s a real person. She’s a woman who lost her father to cancer when she was young and who has been divorced twice, and I don’t care who you are or how much Dolce is in your closet, neither of those are easy experiences. She’s a hard worker who shows up on time and takes her work, whatever you think of it, seriously. But more importantly, she is in fact a human being, and no one deserves the ridicule she has been receiving.

You may critique Kim’s fashion choices, of course. I don’t agree with them. I do think that she could do herself a favor by embracing the maternity look and forgetting the effort to continue to wear clothes not designed for a pregnant woman. With her money and resources, I would not be wearing the same ensembles. But making fun of Kim’s weight gain or her body is beyond cruel; it’s simple bullying.

Kim Kardashian is a small person. She’s not tall. She’s very petite. As with most things in Hollywood, this is a case of objects possibly appearing larger than they really are. A twenty-pound weight gain on Kim Kardashian is going to change her entire body. The plain truth is that almost nobody — really, nobody — is Heidi Klum, including the women of Hollywood. Most of us, Heidi excluded, are going to look like Oompa Loompas when we are pregnant. Most of us, no matter what we wear, are going to look uncomfortable or awkward at some point (or, in my case, all points) during our pregnancies. It’s inevitable and, in my opinion, part of pregnancy to realize that you are no longer in control. That’s not a bad lesson to learn, I feel.

When the media and the public shame Kim Kardashian, they shame all women. Teenage girls, not yet mothers, are listening and watching when Kim’s weight and figure are broadcast on television and in magazines as something outrageous. They are internalizing the message this is shameful, this is bad. While maintaining a healthy weight in pregnancy is a goal, it’s also secondary to the mental, emotional, and otherwise physical health of the mother and the unborn child. The messages we want to send to our daughters are that pregnant women, like all women, come in all shapes and sizes. Pregnancy is beautiful on many levels. What is important about pregnancy is health, not how good you look in a dress.

It’s not Kim Kardashian who needs to feel shame right now. It’s the American media and the public criticizing her, snickering at her, and trying to make her feel uncomfortable who should be ashamed. Stop the bullying. It’s really not pretty.