Diary of Desperation

How many brilliant ideas do you have, in the dark hours of desperation?
In your head, 24 hours a day, every waking moment is spent trying,
failing, trying again, and failing again. Guilt sets in, then, a frustration

takes over the small part of your brain that is not crowded with obsessive
thoughts of fat!

I was pushed to the brink one day, when trying and failing to control
what i put into my mouth. I decided that a laxative would take the bloat

off, since trying to loose had only made me gain. Raise your hand, if this

is something you can relate to.rei

This brilliant idea was nothing short of genius, why hadn’t any of
the other fatties thought about this? I knew that it was not the right
thing to do, but neither was shoving all things wicked into my face.

8:00 p.m. — I took the recommended dose.

6:00 a.m. — Huh! Nothing? No, nothing … take the recommended dose,

plus one.

12:00 p.m. — Wow! Nothing, … this is not working! Take one more.

3:18 p.m. — Ohhhhh, shit!

I had been divorced for 8 months, working, dating, and generally
feeling like myself again. As I was driving my convertible the 35 miles

home from work, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

Being a bit of a germ probe, I hate public bathrooms. I was sure I
could make the 20 minute drive left, to get to the comfort of my own
bathroom. I was sweating, clinching, clinching, clinching, … and then,

there, in my grey sheepskin seat cover, I had actually crapped my pants,
seat, car, and floor board.
 

A triple dose of the gentle, overnight relief, … my ass! It took its own
form, and what I had was a real frickin’ mess…. I started laughing,
looking at my fellow commuters, like a hot chick, tooling down the road
with not a care in the world. Little did they know, I was sitting in a
seat full of crap.
Having maneuvered through the rest of my drive, I managed to get

myself into the shower, … fully clothed, I might add. Try going up the

stairs, with a mess in your thong! … Not the best coverage.
I have since told this sorted tale. Friends who know me, although finding
it funny as hell, are not shocked at my crazy antics.

Do not try this at home, kids!

I have since learned the evils of overnight relief, it is testament
that we will try anything, once in a spin of obsessed thinking about
the extra flesh we pack around.

" Pass The Cake Please"

This is for all my girls out there that are, as we say, "drop dead
gorgeous, but hiding it under a layer (or layers) of unabashed flesh."

I am a woman who knows, as I do not consider myself one of the

aforementioned women. I am a redhead, and not of the less fortunate
looking, I am on the "upper end of the food chain" when it comes to

redheads. (Sorry to my red headed sisters, we all know what I'm talking

about.) It's the price we pay for having locks that stand out in a crowd. As

all redheads know, we are always referred to as "the redhead," and for

that alone, never able to go undetected.

My point is this.... How many of you are sitting and reading this, with the

face of an angel, but the ass of a small, pull out couch? Get over yourself.

I can say that, as I am a former fatty! At some point, beautiful in your eyes

or not, we are all different sizes, and yes, ... beautiful. Some are more

beautiful than others, you know who you are. So, I say to you, "Stop hiding

your frickin' God given beauty, and right to own what you have been lucky

enough to get, ... don't squander your beauty!"

Recently, I attended a bridal shower. (The bride-to-be knows who she
is, you were beautiful!) As I listened to this group, ... young, old, skinny,

and hefty, there was common theme. All talk of fat, ... how to loose it,

hide it, cut it off, squeeze it into different sizes, and camouflage it. By the

way, you can't camouflage it. This was the conversation, while I was choking

down a huge piece of 5 layer, dark chocolate cake, (my cheat day bitches).

It occurred to me, how many words we use on flesh, flab, and fat. I'm as

guilty as the next "fat ass." Think about it, ... all female gatherings we attend,

whether it be lunches, dinners, showers, etc., ... what do we talk about? In

between bashing men, and the "whore" at the table next to us, getting all the

looks from said men, ... it's fat! If we talked less, and moved our fat American

asses more, ... guess what? That's right, we would soon see the demise of the

female social structure die out! I'm just saying, "Do something about it!"

There will always be chocolate cake, cookies, buffets, moms force-feeding us,

(Food is love to my mother.), cocktails, chips, that new taco at Taco Bell, with

the nacho shell.... What will it take for us to decide, "Yes, today is the day,

and nothing, and no one is going to stop me."? There is a moment in every

former fatty's life, when for the first time in, you can't remember how long,

you can see your clavicles. Mine was in the shower. I felt them one morning,

4 months into my yearlong transformation. Getting a glimpse of yourself, and

not believing that you are the creature in front of you, ... is right up there as

one of the "freeze-dry moments" in life. You know, when you wish you could

freeze-dry that scene, and pull it out later for reference. All of the crap that we

shove into our bodies, will always be there. Remember that, the next time you

want to forfeit the feeling of self-accomplishment, and investment in yourself. 

Remember, clavicles feel better than cake!

To the royal bridesmaids, "You inspire me, and delight me!" This story is for all

of you, but most of all, for the "beautiful blonde." I can't wait to see you rule

the world! To my "Peek," (the most beautiful one of all)!

Lip Service

 I sat  there listing  to her wondering, “ How in the hell did she get those
perfect lips, along with that perfect color?”

Kerstin is one of the most beautiful English women I know. She looks
as if she just sails through life looking like that without
trying…correction mi s’more! She is savvy as hell, and knows all the
right people, having hailed from San Francisco, she knows her stuff.

I was informed that it was not a lip tint, stain, gloss, nor a lipstick
cleverly marketed to my age demographic. I was now on a mission!

Permanent makeup bitches!

No, not the kind you see on unsuspecting women. You all know the kind
 that could be Elaine on the angry eyebrows episode of Seinfeld, one
of my personal disappointments, thank god for reruns!

Waiting for the name, the place, anything. Come on Give it up already! Yes, yes…an address and a referral…Score!

This was going to change my makeup regime.  I also felt like a bit of
a bad ass getting my lips tattooed with, might I add, the lip color I
was born with.  Now I was one of the elitist women in the know, I
had been inked!

Overlooking the most spectacular view in San Fran, I received my new
pout and had an eye opening experience to the world of permanent make-up.  Not all artists are created equal, and they broke the proverbial
mold with Athena!

After 3 hours and more numbing cream than I can mention, we left her
office with the instructions for aftercare( this is no joke), and a
Angelina Joule pout.  The swelling was monumental, so decided on
Bloomingdales top floor restaurant in an attempt to get my lips of size
around my favorite, the steak sandwich. The “we” im referring to is myself, and my assistant Nichole. Did I mention I couldn’t live with out her?

So here is moral to the story…

When it comes to the face ladies, don’t mess around! You get what
you pay for. Check out websites for before and after photos. Anybody
blowing up your lips, and giving you a color your going to be stuck with
for 18 to 24 months should have a professional web site, along with a
license.

The price varies. My lips, including 3 touch ups with in a year was $ 2,500
but worth every penny.
Looking flush lipped upon waking up has my husband thinking I really am a
natural beauty, (natural my ass)!
Speaking of ass, you will also look quite fab at the gym working out
with no make-up. It’s amazing what lip color does for us girls.
For the last year I have used gloss or Chapstick ( Burt’s bees my favorite).




Peace out bitches!

~Reigan Riley

Guest Book

Standing at the door repeating the same sentence trying new ways to
say it with each guest going thought the door…..
“Please sign the guest book , first two rows reserved for family”
Trying to do my task with a happy heart……my feet were killing me,
sucker slipping up and rolling ( come on we all know what I’m taking
about )
Trying to make sure the bad choice I had chosen to wear…adjusting so
cleavage wouldn’t show…  or worse nipples…… Whore!

My best girlfriend had recently lost her beloved father, I loved him
too, such a darling man.  Becky had taken care of her father during
the past two years giving him such loving care, always without
complaining. Watching this process knowing how she cared for him, I
am impressed with the kind of woman I saw in her during that time. She
is the girlfriend you could do anything with , knowing no matter how
heinous or obnoxious the situation it would go to the grave. No one
one, I mean no one, will have your back like she has… ( we have some
story’s).

She is the only girlfriend I have ever had , always cheering me on,
without the almost impossible girlfriend quality of never being
jelouse  ( we call it green jelly bean) she truly only wants the best
for me. And has seen me through a lifetime,being there through some of
my darkest hours.

We have similar upbringings raised in very religious  homes, we swear
the same mothers!  That’s a whole other story.  Both adore our
fathers and find humor in irreverent behavior.

Watching her world unfold as the people she has known throughout her
life,  passing through the threshold I found one common
thing……we all have a past, as close as I am to her I felt like a
spectator, these people who show up in times of darkness and touch
in, bringing us something so necessary in the mending of a broken
heart.  We feel connected, grounded and most of all comforted and
loved.

As Cliche as it might sound, connect with people you love.

YOU be the one who shows up for them,  Standing beside your friend to
face their personal darkness will serve you ten fold. It has been an
honor to be there for her.I saw a new side of an old friend today, as much as you think you know about your girlfriends, I met a new part today.

Peace out bitches!
~Reigan Riley

Fat Man In A Little Coat Part II

It had taken me a year to transform myself from a frump to a fabulous woman.

I remember the first time someone called me hot, I turned around to
see if anyone was behind me, expecting to find a vamp…it was me? Shut
up!!

I was in Ross ( Ross is boss ), still love a Ross fix, you know the
dressing rooms resembling a cell in a woman’s prison, I slipped on
the jeans. Not my usual tugging, pushing folds of flesh( hips) and my personal favorite, laying on the bed and using a coat hanger to zip the load in…So embarrassing.
But these slid over my birthing hips. I found the tag and closed my eyes.Did I really want to know? Was it a 24 as in size? I had shrunk from a size 28…where does one go from a 28?  One two three, opened (yes,me a grown woman playing 1,2,3)
Size 16!!

I sat down on the measly bench provided and stared at myself in the mirror, if I could have hugged me I would have, I started crying and ended up sobbing.
This moment I will never as long as I live forget. The months of
walking and dieting had really worked. I felt like a size 6 not a
16… I hadn’t before walking into that dressing room, but I
emerged victorious.

I told the cashier my triumphant news; being a fatty herself I thought she would share my joy. She did not, nor was she amused at my humor about it. But I knew she understood, because she was me, and I was her…we got it!

As I began to shrink, I did other amazing things. Cut my hair( I looked like Captain Caveman, those of you too young to know who that is youtube it), my hair was long and thick with no style, like me at the time. New bouncy hair with treads of gold copper strategically placed throughout my crown, thank you Traci. She has been my friend since we were 13, I learned how to smoke pot blowing it out of her bathroom window……first to drive, and have a car, we were inseparable. She went to beauty school as I was heading out of state for school. Still a
rockin’ colorist, she kept me colored red (I am a natural redhead but we all need a little boost), didn’t charge me a dime.I will always be indebted to her for doing that for decades.  Thank
you Trace (it takes a village).

I was still married to the shmuck, but checking out daily, I had
decided to leave him, but was still trying to figure out how I was
going to support myself, thinking for sure he would pay child support and alimony. Funny thing when you ask for guidance, it comes if you listen. I asked and I received a phone call from my mother. Her good friend was the head of anesthesia at a hospital downtown; she was looking for an assistant, would I be interested?

There have been a few times in my life when things line up and present themselves with divine timing (meeting my second husband is the most unbelievable example of that). I did the interview, my husband did not want me to go to work, he must have seen the writing on the wall, he was a control freak, along with my new body, hair, clothes, panties (yes, panties, pretty ones, small ones, I have never worn ugly ones since).

I got the job!

Dream Weaver

Instant gratification, ahhhh nirvana.
I’m sure you all remember having the dolls who with a push of a
button (belly button) and voila! Long hair, short hair, shoulder length
hair… hair! Hair! Hair!

I worked on a maternity floor at a very busy hospital as a surgical
assistant, where I met and became good friends with an OBGYN, She was
not a regular doctor, not the ones we mostly worked with (self
inflated superior a-holes). She was cool and ended up being my BFF, my
partner in crime. But having an air of responsibility (she was in
charge of birthing children for gods sake), I felt somewhat safe during
our antics, we had so many fun adventures.

I had started getting extensions… 10 pieces, then 30, maybe just 10
more. Like a fat girl in a bakery gorging on sweets, I was obsessed
with the magic of instant hair.

Anyone who knows about extensions knows it’s a big girls sport,
expensive as hell, and like anything, the more skilled, the more
moolah. And let me add, anyone who has had them says the same thing:
“they’re addictive”.

I couldn’t afford the maintenance. They had to be changed out monthly, yet you couldn’t stop adding piece after $10.00 piece. Yes y’all, $10.00 per strand as I have found out. A full head would run about $1800. Translation 180 pieces of human hair cut from the heads of eastern European women, placed with skill on the heads of upper income bitches.

BFF, a skilled surgeon, was sure she could perform said task. Alas, I
would have my head of locks, researched hair, tools, and paid very
close attention to the process while in the salon getting my measly 30
strands maintained.

Armed with a bundle of virgin hair, tools, and a large coffee,
perched on a yellow vintage chair in my kitchen, (1929 bungalow, still
miss that house), we  embarked on dreamweaver take one.

5 hours later(BFF has the patience of jobe), behold! I had a full head of 22 inch flaming red lady Godiva locks. I felt like a movie star minus the
bod, clothes, and bank account…we did it!

Did I mention I had a yard sale, or as we referred to it,” a hair sale”
to purchase the merchandise in question…can you say, white
trash?!

Now when I look back on that chapter, I do it with fondest thoughts of
a friend who was there with me in my silliest of times and didn’t
judge or complain, but showed up for me. I always knew it was a special
time, but now I truly realize that girlfriends are our greatest
treasure. They are the real deal. The ones we run to with things
almost too embarrassing to admit to ourselves, then they show up and
validate, motivate, cultivate, and support us.  In those times my
girlfriends pulled me through more shit and strife than I can ever
thank them for.

So here’s to all BFFs who make us laugh in the process of making life
just a little easier and a lot more fun. Girl power! I always say your
man is the icing on the cake; your girlfriends are the glue holding
that frickin’ cake together!

My hair fell out in huge clumps, I had bald spots for 6 months and had
to cut my hair into a very short blunt bob, I rocked it, and wouldn’t
have changed a thing.
Note to self… The girls in the salon that make $ 200.00 an hour
are making it for a reason. This is not the last time I toiled with
Barbie hair………

Peace out bitches!
~Reigan Riley

Fake It Till You Make It

There is a scene where Scarlett O’hara uses her green velvet
curtains to create the most fabulous dress’s, worn to secure her
family’s financial future.

I read gone with the wind when I was 12, and if anyone has seen this book
it is aprox. 1200 pages. I was hooked.Having always identified with
Scarlett, she is a ball buster and an self indulged child at the same
time, but always looks impeccable doing It.

My reasoning for this Segway is to remind all of us we can do anything
and sometimes the most trying times are the most enlightening.There is
something that comes over all of us( this after days of wallowing, not
bathing , empty ice cream boxes shoved down to the bottom of the
garbage can so no one can see our shame, followed by more wallowing)

Then that day comes when we get up and say enough!  We pull ourselfs
up by (the hottest seasons boot) straps and get a gettin on with life,
most times with a new appreciation of who we are, our core being of
what we really know about ourselfs.
So when the preverbal shit hits the fan, remember……..this too
shall pass! Maybe ..just maybe we are about to vere onto the most
wonderdous journey great things come from darkest hours, books have
been written, careers changed , fames stars alined. Be brave enough to
face it and insightful enough to see the signs along the way.

Peace out bitches
~Reigan Riley