Kylie Jenner is young, relevant, popular and rich – the total opposite of me (no matter how much I insist I’m the first three things). Her life is totally alien, because even when I was twenty, I wasn’t an internationally-recognised make-up mogul millionaire. And, alas, I never will be.
But that doesn’t mean it’s not been fascinating to watch Jenner as part of the Kardashian juggernaut. Whenever she appears in my newsfeed, I always click; what’s she wearing, what car is she driving, has it been revealed that she has another sister whose name starts with K?
After all, she’s a high-profile reality TV queen – that’s how this all started. Keeping Up with The Kardashians has intimately detailed the lives of the family for almost eleven years, and anything that doesn’t appear on the show, appears on Jenner’s Instagram. She’s what us Gen Xers would call “an open book” – and what Millennials would call an “#openbook”.
The world is certainly accustomed to a play-by-play of her life, often in her bikini. I’m not body-shaming, that’s just a fact.
So when she started hiding that famous body, we became immediately suspicious.
She went from this: