It’s pretty easy to forget that Kylie Jenner is just 18-years-old.
Yes, she’s sparkly, rich, and super famous, but she’s still human. A human with a conscience, an ego, insecurities and flaws.
I’m not that much older than Kylie. Although we don’t have much in common (Kylie drives a BMW convertible, I drive a shitty Holden Barina), our ages are similar. To remember a time when I was 18 isn’t difficult – it was only a few short years ago.
And who was I at 18? Well, I was painfully self-conscious. Unsure of myself. Full of self-doubt.
At 18, I was convinced that my self-worth was inextricably linked to my appearance. I obsessed over my weight, so I drank ‘diet tea’ on the odd occasion (Tip: Do not drink diet tea, just… don’t).
I felt insecure about my nose, so I researched nose jobs and started saving up for one. I put funny filters on my Instagram photos. I went through an embarrassing eyeliner phase. I even insisted people call me ‘Chel’ for a bit.
And I don’t think that’s unusual for an 18-year-old. Because, guess what, at 18 you’re still finding your feet.
You know what I didn’t have at 18, though?
I didn’t have hundreds of thousands of people publicly trashing me, my family, and my appearance. I never had people labelling me ‘the ugly duckling’ or a ‘troll’. I didn’t have a Victoria’s Secret Model for an older sister (my sister is really pretty, she’s just not Kendall Jenner). I didn’t have paparazzi stalking me, or Twitter accounts solely dedicated to vilifying me.
No, my insecurities came only from within myself. And, believe me, they were more than enough.
Now, of course, some people will tell me that Kylie Jenner chose this life, and that criticism is part of the deal, but I wholeheartedly disagree. I don’t think you can choose to have your life televised when you’re just nine years old. You cannot choose who your family is, or that scandal is your shadow.