Nicole_Crews by Nicole Crews

Me: Do you like this skirt?

Mother: In my day, we didn’t wear dresses to make our butts look bigger.

Me: That’s because the Madison Avenue model was a skinny blonde WASP from Connecticut.

Mother: As opposed to a fat-assed Armenian nobody from Calabasas?

To celebrate the release of Kim Kardashian’s book of selfies, Selfish, Elle magazine writer Sally Holmes decided to live like the reality star for an entire week and write about it in a four part series. I tried it for an hour. Here’s what happened.

Part 1 — Fashion

Minute one and it feels like my bladder might implode from the tightness of this bandage skirt — or maybe it’s the fourth grader’s Saint Pius X gym shorts I’m wearing underneath. (Kim recently told sisters Kylie and Kendall that she couldn’t leave the house without Spanx and since I don’t own any and SPX is the acronym for the Greensboro Catholic school, I decided to improvise with a recent Bargain Box purchase.)

I’m loving the effect of the exaggerated booty from the gym shorts and I’m getting lots of well-deserved attention. “Hey lady, your gym shorts are sticking out of your skirt” and “Are you okay miss? You look unwell.”

Despite the fact that my distended belly belongs on the cover of National Geographic — not Vogue — I’m feeling fabulous above the neck about my new look.

I had already decided to go “Post-Kanye” for my Kimmy fashion debut and dress like a really slutty Trappist Monk in monochromatic colors from head to toe that have been sprayed on by Maaco — so, in other words, what passes for classy in Kanye-culture. I’ve added stilettos that offset the fact that I’m actually a bridge troll with pleasing facial features. It’s only Minute 3 and I am almost transformed.

Part 2 — Beauty

Since Triad City Beat’s version of a Glamsquad is Eric Ginsburg buying a hairbrush, I was on my ownish when it came to hair and makeup. Stephanie Butler already took me to the blonde stage of Kimye so I cut a middle part, straightened the Middle East out of my locks and called it a day.

Makeup was another story. I’m a writer, so Kim’s signature clawing-my-way-to-the-top mani was out of the question. I’d have to put my laptop in Winston-Salem and type from Greensboro for those nails to work so I just went with gilded nail polish or what I like to call “Gold Digger” in homage to our future president, Kanye.

As for the face, capturing a constant wide-eyed vapid expression is harder than it looks. Like Elle writer Holmes, I too possess a fairly constant “resting b**** face” — also known as “woman who has thoughts.” After much experimentation I realized the look has less to do with makeup and more to do with thinking like a baby who has just crapped its diaper at all times. (For what it’s worth, this is also the face that Melania Trump employs at all times. What is it with these future First Ladies?!)

Part 3 — Body

Kim purportedly goes for a run every morning but I have the feeling that she is unclear on the difference between a lip wax and running laps so her fitness routine is still a mystery. My guess is that it’s pretty much comprised of having sex with Kanye, and as far as I can tell it seems to be working. She is pregnant, right?

Since I only had an hour I decided to bust hip-hop moves to Kanye songs for 10 minutes and call it a day. I don’t think I’m pregnant, but I haven’t been tested.

Part 4 — Life

When Horace Greely stole the quote “Go west, young man, go west” from John Babsone Lane Soule, I don’t think he was talking about Kanye.

That said, Kim has made her choice, and she is admittedly and E! Channel proven obsessed with her family, so I tried the same with my dogs. After 20 minutes of taking selfies with them they were done with me.

They were not remotely interested in my concern that they were being selfish for not promoting my column in Triad City Beat amongst their canine club of friends.

They became vociferously violent when I suggested that they might be drinking too much and took their water bowl away. Instead of tweeting catty remarks about me they attempted murdering both a bird and cat in a refreshingly non-passive-aggressive attempt for me to leave them alone.

My whiny voice attempt at sounding Kardashianesque apparently got the better of them and they have both since run away. I imagine they are holing up somewhere with Kris Humphries, Ray J and 50 Cent and wondering what the hell just happened. Scout and Molly please come home! Mommy is back — resting b**** face and all.


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