Kanye West is wrecking Kim Kardashian’s figure! That’s because the reality star and her hip-hop boyfriend stuff themselves with food and drink during extravagant feasts. The five-foot-three beauty, who hooked up with Kanye in April, gained fifteen pounds in only three months. Sources say she’s too busy partying with her beau and doesn’t have time for her once-regular workouts. — Kim Quits Diet For Kanye, National Enquirer
“We can collectively affect the world through design,” said Kanye West. He was sitting with Kim Kardashian in a New York City fusion restaurant so exclusive it hadn’t even opened yet, while Champagne bubbled and flowed between them. “We need to pick up where Steve Jobs left off.” Kim watched him through plump, perfect lashes while waiters brought the second course. Kris Humphries had favored dull Midwestern food — steaks and potato casseroles and orange cubes of cheese — but Kanye West only dined at the finest five-star restaurants.
Kim swelled with pride as they feasted on escargot-dripping gold-flaked garlic butter and native bagels with white truffle cream cheese and blowfish while everyone watched and Instagrammed. How had she ever thought it could be anyone but Kanye West? She’d known him for ten years, but like the lead character in a high-school drama (or maybe a musical?), Kim couldn’t see that he was the one until a string of dramatic events finally flung them together. Now they were like Beyoncé and Jay, but in another sphere of influence entirely. The Knowles-Carters ate at a table nearby, backs turned to stay out of the frame; they attracted more stares but fewer paparazzi, confirming Kim’s point.
So they shared a whole roasted suckling pig and macaroni and Pule cheese with Italian white Alba mushrooms and Spam scrambled with ostrich eggs and talked about international affairs. Kanye knew everything and everyone, and he was filled with a fiery passion to radically change the Earth. “I care about people who have never heard of me,” he was saying. “There are over 7 billion people on the planet now,” he continued, licking sweet glaze from his fingers for emphasis. “There are so many broken systems from the economy, to school systems, jail systems. We need experts for this.” Kim took mental notes so that she’d have stuff to talk to the president about at the DNC after-party in Charlotte and drank more Champagne. Waiters were bringing the third course now, and while the artisan pizza loaded with Sevruga caviar, lobster, crème fraîche, and saffron looked delicious, she eyed it with growing unease.
“I sit every day and ask what can I do to make a difference,” Kanye said. “We need as many amazing, powerful, smart, talented, wealthy people to be involved. There are so many billionaires in the world that can come together and help to redesign it.”
Kim let out a little sigh of relief. He didn’t mean she had to do it, then. She’d be a billionaire someday and then maybe do things for the U.N. like Angelina, but she had enough on her plate at the moment. Kanye talked a lot about Steve Jobs, but Kim was the second-most-Googled person in America for 2011, and he was only No. 8. Waiters were bringing the third course now, and while the artisan pizza loaded with Sevruga caviar, lobster, crème fraîche, and saffron looked delicious, she eyed it with growing unease.
“Fashion Week,” said Kim, darkly. It wasn’t her fault that a mere picture of her in the act of eating was worth untold thousands of dollars; it was the patriarchal cisgengered discourse of society that did that. The tabloids analyzed every ounce and layer of her body; her face was the canvas for plastic surgeons who’d never treated her to speculate upon. But the income from the pictures was awesome.
With the most important event in the country at hand, the pressure was on her to look fabulous, and the seventeen cameras currently aimed in their direction felt judgey. But Kanye shook his head, and told her, as he always did, that he liked a woman with meat on her bones. Kim was known for her curves and Kanye was a master of geometry, he said. He cajoled her with a spoonful of fresh whipped cream made from camel milk as the fourth course began, until Kim laughed and threw caution to the wind. There was a reason why God invented Spanx.
Kanye had a surprise planned. It started subtly with the cream. Then sweetened creamed corn with carraway seeds. At first, Kim didn’t catch on. But when the waiters kept coming with white plates, fantastically arranged, she started to see the theme, and clapped her hands together. Her eyes were bright. Kanye was slyly pretending like he didn’t notice while more and more waiters appeared.
“We need scientists and top world designers to directly affect governments,” he said, lifting a finely cut sliver of kiwi to her lush lips. “The world is our office.“Oh, Kanye!” Kim exclaimed. She started naming what was being brought to the table. “Kabobs! Kippers! Oh, kale with Kashi!” She’d be sure to get a good shot with the health food. There was a veritable army of waiters now.
“Kielbasa!” Kim squealed. Her voice was scaling higher, her breath panting hot. “Oh, my God. No one makes kugel like New York Jews make kugel. I can’t wait.” Now they were setting down a service of silver, removing the domes with flare, and it was one of the crowning moments of Kim’s life. The whole restaurant stopped to watch, they became an instant trending hashtag, and even Jay and Beyoncé stole surreptitious looks.
She knew her cheeks were very red but didn’t care, because the last shining platter was placed before her, the gloved waiter lifting the lid to reveal Kanye’s masterwork: The Kim Kardashian Kit-Kat(tm) Krispy Kreme(tm), done in an exclusive deal with Nestle(tm) and Krispy Kreme(tm). When she saw its glory revealed, Kim tossed her head back, and echoed the performance she gave at major movie auditions: Meg Ryan’s orgasmic café scene from When Harry Met Sally. But Kim’s moans of ecstasy tonight were poignantly real.
Finally alone in the long sleek limousine, they were all over each other. Kanye hadn’t dabbled much in acting, though he had plans to when he wrote the right script, but he was a connoisseur of Kim’s entire body of work and he’d directed, of course. He liked to role-play some of her old scenes, inserting himself into the scenario and showing her how he’d choreograph the action. His music thrummed from the speakers as the limousine wended its way slowly through every borough, even Staten Island, making wild love in the backseat. Kim had never been happier, not even when her social media team told her that queries for Kris Humphries were declining. Until, that is, Kanye revealed that he’d had food brought special from the restaurant. That was when she knew bliss.
After kimchee and kidney pie washed down with kefir, Kim made a decision. She lay in the circle of Kanye’s arms and swore off Spanx, bodily deception, and bowing to the cultural expectations of Hollywood heteronormativity. She wouldn’t yield to the fearsome judgment of Fashion Week. She was better than their haute couture cuts. She could afford to have them made for her.
I’ll have the last laugh, because I always do, thought Kim, and she opened her mouth to suck on the kumquat Kanye offered.
