Kris Jenner . . . And All Things Kardashian by Kris Jenner

for some odd reason my body broke out in this crazy, horrendous episode of psoriasis from head to toe. The rash was so bad, I looked like a burn victim. It was the first time I experienced any kind of physical disorder, and it was really life-changing.
    I was very lucky to be healthy and athletic. I just loved to be out in the sun in my bikini, swimming with my kids. Now I had this rash erupting all over my body with huge, red, angry sores. I panicked. I thought I had some obscure disease and was dying. I went to my doctor, the Beverly Hills cosmetic dermatologist Arnie Klein, and he took one look at me and said, “Wow, I think you have psoriasis!”
    “Psoriasis?! What is that?”
    “Haven’t you ever heard of the ‘heartbreak of psoriasis’?” he said.
    “Hell no, but I definitely have now!”
    I would soon learn that psoriasis can be caused by emotional stress. What stress did I have? Living a perfect life in a perfect house with a perfect husband and two perfect children? I wasn’t sure—at least, not yet. Arnie Klein sent me to his colleague Dr. David Rish, who specialized in the care of psoriasis. Dr. Rish put me on a regimen that involved pills and spending time in a sunbed every other day. Gradually, after a year and a half of treatment, my psoriasis healed. I still suffer from outbreaks from time to time and now use medication to help control it, but nothing as severe as I experienced then.
    After my psoriasis treatment was over, Robert and I decided to take a trip. My parents drove up and watched the kids, and we had the time of our lives traveling to Europe in 1983. We started in Rome and then went to Capri, Venice, and Florence. It was on the trip to Europe that Robert and I decided it was time to have another baby. We conceived again in Italy.
    Nine months later, in 1984, four years after the birth of Kimberly, our third daughter was born on June 27.
    I loved the name Chloe, but I didn’t know if I could change the
C
to a
K
. Sure, it would be easy to do, but would it be fair to the child? I wondered about it, because I had never seen “Chloe” spelled “Khloé” before. But of all the names I came up with, nothing else fit. From the moment I saw her, Khloé just looked like a Khloé.
    Like her name, Khloé looked different. Different from everyone else in the family, from the moment she was born. She had blond hair and these greenish eyes. She looked a lot like my maternal grandmother, Lou Ethel, and Robert’s mother, Helen. Kourtney and Kimberly came out dark and Armenian looking, and Khloé arrived looking nothing like them.
    Khloé learned really fast that it isn’t easy to be the third daughter. She was instantly funny; she knew how to get attention. She wasn’t going to be left in the dust. Growing up, Khloé always found a way to carve out space for herself, usually through humor. There was a time in Khloé’s life when she really thought she was a dog, and when people came over, she would bark and lick them and sometimes bite their legs. This was a standing gig for her; it was her form of stand-up comedy. It was so damn funny. She developed themost amazing personality and learned how to be strong and take care of herself.
    Our friends loved our three girls. They were always entertaining, doing little skits and dances. They would show off and they were never shy. We had a loud, excitable, fun family. We had such an amazing group of friends, so my social life was really rich and full, but the family life was equally as wonderful. Again, I felt really lucky—and blessed.
    Yet, something was missing.
    A boy.
    From the first time I gave birth, Robert’s parents and all of his Armenian family members were praying for a boy. But first I had Kourtney. Everyone was excited about Kourtney. Then I had Kimberly, and everyone thought,
Oh, so cute to have two little girls!
Meanwhile, they all kept praying for a boy. Then came Khloé, another girl, and of course everyone was still happy. But it felt