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In Defense of the Badonkadonk: How the Kardashians Changed Body Culture

  • 3 days ago
  • 2 min read

Love it or hate it, we’re living in the Kardashian era of pop culture.


A family of beautiful, business-savvy women — fronted by Kim and masterfully orchestrated by Kris Jenner — exploded onto the scene in 2007 and never left. What started with scandal evolved into an empire. There have been more spinoffs than Starbucks has drink modifications, and every sister has managed to turn beauty, branding, or both into a billion-dollar conversation.

Mirror selfie of a woman with long hair wearing a white bodysuit, turned to the side to highlight her curves and fuller hips, emphasizing a modern, curvy body ideal.
The shift: from shrinking ourselves to celebrating shape — where curves aren’t corrected, they’re the moment.

But through all the noise — the criticism, the eye rolls, the endless headlines — there’s one thing I genuinely admire:


They helped make a big butt not just acceptable… but aspirational.


Yes, yes — the appreciation of a generous backside existed long before Calabasas. Baby Got Back made that very clear. And Jennifer Lopez didn’t exactly suffer from a lack of attention. But the Kardashians didn’t just appreciate curves — they commercialized them, normalized them, and pushed them squarely into the mainstream.


Spanx got thicker. Jeans got stretchier. Surgeons got busier.Coincidence? Doubtful.



Black-and-white photo of a very thin woman in lingerie leaning against a wall, with visible bones and a gaunt, angular frame, evoking the “heroin chic” aesthetic of 1990s fashion.
The ’90s ideal: when “thin” quietly crossed into something far less healthy.

Because for those of us who came of age in the Kate Moss era, this shift feels seismic.

The ’90s ideal wasn’t just thin — it was vanishing. “Heroin chic” was an actual trend, complete with hollow eyes, jutting bones, and the subtle suggestion that hunger was a personality trait. And while we can laugh about it now, that era quietly fed body dysmorphia and disordered eating in a way that felt… normal at the time.


Since I’m built more like a Kim than a Kate, I spent over a decade trying to flatten curves I was genetically issued.I chased waif when I was built for sway.

And man… I was really hungry in the ’90s.


At one point I was 36-22-36, 120 pounds, a size 2 — and still labeled “not fat, but thick.” I’d give anything to go back and tell 20-year-old me to be proud of the house she lived in, even if pop culture insisted everyone was supposed to be renting in Skinny Town.


Then there was Anna Nicole Smith — who could sell the fantasy for Guess and Playboy, but somehow didn’t fit into their standard sizing. Good enough to be the billboard… not included on the rack.


Make that make sense. I’ll wait.


So yes — Kardashian women, thank you.And any woman unafraid to celebrate her shape — thank you. Body culture is important to everyone.


Because while no beauty era is perfect, this one at least makes room for bodies that look like they’ve lived a life — not just survived on air and ambition.


I’m genuinely grateful my daughter is growing up in a world where body acceptance is something people actively fight for — where the conversation finally includes mental health, self-worth, and the understanding that our bodies were never meant to be trends.


So today, pay homage to your favorite badonkadonk.

Let her strut.

Let her shine.

And for the love of all things holy — get fries with that shake.

Life is short. 🍟


 
 
 

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