Kim Kardashian’s Baby Is a Girl, Already Dreading Leopard-Printed Hand-Me-Downs



Oh don’t tell me you’re fucking surprised, too. I’m a girl—yeah, yeah, yeah. Can’t you tell by my gentle disposition, emotional intelligence, and maternal instincts? No? Fuck you and the gender-normative horse you fucking rode in on. My ma is excited—listen to how excited she sounds: “I’m so excited we’re having a girl. Who doesn’t want a girl? They are the best and I know that’s really what Kanye has always wanted. He wanted a little girl.” You’re goddamn right he did. Subscribing now to a lifetime of daddy issues . . .

So yeah, not that it matters, but I am a girl. I am a pink-loving, Barbie-collecting, sports-averse little rosebud on top of a raindrop on top of a kitten’s fucking nose who is going to one day borrow her mother’s clothes (to incinerate them), ask for advice about makeup (how we make up the viewership lost by announcing my sex so prematurely), and worry about boys (is my Adderall-riddled Scott-Caan-doll of an assistant using his company-owned BlackBerry to text pictures of his schwanz to Crossroads seniors?), etc.

Oh, the joys of womanhood.

Kiss kiss,