" 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

Riding In Cars With Boys

“ Pouched quail eggs?”

This was the question I had been asked by a stout woman with a thick Irish
brogue, and an equally thick mustache. How did I get here?

I’ll tell you how, with the most valuable information my mother ever
taught me, “Fake it till you make it my dear”. This tidbit of maternal wisdom
has served me well.

Dinning on an impeccable ensemble of china, fresh flowers, crisp linen, and more silver than I have ever seen, I sat my ample ass on a velvet
cushion listing to the chatter at the table… apparently Rod Stewart
married his last, or second to last wife In the same abode.

I was having dinner with two of Ireland’s equipment giants. At the time
I was in sales, heavy equipment to be exact, you know earth movers,
forklifts, yada, yada.

I was sent to Ireland for touring the factory and learning the
product. Singled out by the owners as a brilliant student, they asked me to
attend a dinner at one of the last family operating castles in the
region. No less with a living earl still inhabiting the family castle
dating back to the 16 century. Although technically alive( he was
ancient) he was a hoot and very charming.
What is it about guys with accents? An Irish brogue would make
Quasimodo look appealing. The moment they let loose with a sentence, we
are in a trance. I’m a hard sale, but even I fell under the spell.
Sitting with all these tiny Irish men with the frickin’ cutest accents
in the world was starting to make my head spin. Not to mention I’m a stinking redhead in Ireland! They loved me, big hit at the pubs!

As the night wore on the boyfriend I brought along (I will regret not
going alone on this trip) began to wear on my nerves. He was, to say the least, a chest beating android who became enraged with the attention I was getting. He was looked at as an irritation by my hosts.

Boyfriend proceeds to drink 12 pints of Guinness, thus portraying a
complete ass. Locked out of the room. Id had it with him. Said ass
spent the night on tasteful lounges in the lobby. Needless to say, we
broke up on the flight home.

Why are we expected to be arm candy, smile, look hot, and dig doing it?
Can I say I loved being the one with a set for once!( please tell me I
don’t have to explain “set”)


I was in the industry because I can talk to anyone, and believe I
can do anything if I choose to. It’s astounding, what you put out there, people believe (use your powers for good not evil ladies). I was a
single mother with the second full time job of my adult life, and was
kicking ass!
I had been handed a bad situation after my divorce, an x husband that
felt paying child support was something he would do if he could( he
never could, shmuck!). I had little choice but to survive. Why just
survive? One must thrive! That time in my life changed me, but for the
better; I know I can do anything I set my mind to do.

I was rounding corners At 80 mph, and squealing with utter delight as
my host, the cute not married one, took me home after my boyfriend was
escorted back to the hotel. Not just any ride… his Lamborghini!
We roar to the hotel , valet opens door….leg out first (trying to
look like those commercials of rock star women), paying close
attention to knees clinched, no one needed to see all that. Thinking
all the men’s eyes were on me, as there was quite a crowd. No…they
were huddled around the car, hands in pockets standing around in true
man ritualistic fashion.
But you know who was watching my every move…….. The women……

Don’t be such a bitch!

Peace out bitches

~Reigan Riley

Fat Man In A Little Coat ..Part 1

Each step I told myself, ” don’t quit”( this has been my mantra for
most of my life). Sweat pouring, heart pounding. Was I going to stoke
out right here on this god forsaken dirt road in the middle of the
scene from deliverance? As cars slow down to see the crazy woman, I
looked at them, daring them to look back, brazen and full of anger.
Angry at myself, angry at them for looking at me, and angry for what
I had let my life become .

I was fat. No, I really mean fat. Not like when a size 6 bimbo says
“I’m so fat”, when you feel yourself restrain from taking a cane to her
backside and yelling ill show you fat!
I had gained a collective 100 pounds in the last few years of my
marriage. Unhappy, hating my then husband, the only solace was found in
a bag of cheettos, cookie batter, lasagna, doughnuts (jelly cake,
maple bars, fritters), you name it. I had a love affair with food.

I woke up on January 13 and said enough! Boy was it enough. 247
pounds and counting. Not sure why that day was different, but I do
remember thinking, nothing is ever going to change, it will only get worse if
I don’t stop, and besides I was way too cute to be a fat girl!
Sometimes you have to look in the mirror and say, “enough”!

” if it is to be its up to me”

Thank you mom for yet another life lesson that I will never forget and
have lived by these words my entire life.

It was up to me, I held the fork!

As I walked up and down those hills where my husband and I thought
would be a good place to raise our kids, might I say the hills, with
hill people.  I was on a mission to save my life, and my soul. I did
a lot of thinking putting in the miles that year. How life was about
to change I would have never in a million years envisioned for myself.

It did, and I made it happen. No one else! I did it every step.
Everyday, even when I didn’t want to get out there, or eat the things I
knew would change my body…I did it, and I did it for an entire year.
Everyday in rain and snow and heat and all things hideous, I did it!

So as I shrank, the talk in this oh so small town was about the crazy
woman who walks, shrinking,  phone calls from, ” friends” all of them
fat and all of them women, wondering if I was ok?
Reeeeealllly!  Why didn’t you ask when I was fat as hell?
“Don’t be such a bitch”

I thought about the things I would do if I were thin, where would I go
if I had all the money to do it, I thought about leaving my husband,
taking care of me. Everyday, every step, every decision got me closer
to my vision to be the fabulous woman I knew I was supposed to be.

Stay tuned this is the best part!
~Reigan Riley

Fat Rolls

Have you ever seen behind the scenes kitchens in restaurants, garbage
cans to be exact…….digging with plastic gloves me, my kids
the bus boy and several other kitchen staff…my sister was
displeased to say the least….

After a day of wondering through outlet stores we had decided to
conclude our day with a celebratory dinner, Fresh Choice of course I
was dieting and half way through the salad I lost my resolve and it was
on like Donkey Kong.

Pizza slices dripping with fake cheese, bread oh the muffins.. yes the
muffins how I loved them, soup, pasta, salads dripping with dressing
and lets not forget the soft serve ….. I had stuffed myself and pissed I
haven’t chosen a burger joint.

This was a classic Reigan move , I had a long history of  loosing my
keys. Digging and sloping through the garbage, dirty dishes with no
joy.We had been at it for 35 minutes, I was starting to panic……I had
no spare key, driving a car I had absolutely no business having, I
couldn’t afford the imported spare key(BMW) it was my Barbie car after
my divorce, although it was used, I was having a hard time with my up
keep let alone my car.

As I stood up with hands on hips (it’s my power pose) I felt
something at my finger tips……..what in the hell?!?! My keys! They had
been smothered in a fat roll tucked into waist of my too tight skirt
made worse by the 3 trips to the bread bar……really are you kidding
me?  Thinking to myself that this only happened to fat chicks
……oh yea I am. Thinking quick, not to be stoned by the
villagers( those helping me dig through garbage)  I excused myself and
went to the bathroom.

I sat down on the commode and cried, then laughed,  at the scene just
played out, although  I was the only one privy to the finale.  When
did I get so fat that I could hide a set of keys in a fat roll?
Pulled myself together and made the same promise to
myself….tomorrow I’ll start my diet (bullshit).

“I found them! “”The burning question where we’re they??”

Damn…..I lied like a rug,” in my pocket don’t know how I missed
them” relived and over it I opened my purse to retrieve my
sunglasses…And rite there in front of god and everyone was the secret to why I
could hide a set of keys in my fat rolls…..
A rookie move!  I had forgotten my ritual of wrapping and packing my
purse with muffins from the Buffet, 5 large chocolate chip muffins
gave my secret away! I looked at my kids and sister……laughter
exploding from all of us, we made a very quick exit with my stolen
merchandise in tact.

Of Course we ate the stinking muffins on the way home!

Peach out bitches!

~Reigan Riley

I got the job!

Surrounded by intelligent people… intoxicating! I loved going to
work where I learned so much more than just medical protocol.
I truly learned about the human side, feeling honored to be present for the
most important moments in peoples lives. Not all situations were the same, I often wondered who these little people would become, how could they influence the world.

I never became desensitized to the anguish of losing a baby. That was part of the job.
There were days I went home with a feeling of utter
grief, I wept for parents and women who lost their children. I
learned that no matter your education, income, or who we might think we
are…human suffering knows no boundaries .

I had a job, got divorced, met a man, and found out who I really was.
What I had believed was true about myself was much different than the reality.
A far cry from the 257 pound peanut butter sandwich
making stay at home mom I had been a mere 12 months before.

I was a fraud, a fat girl in my head, looking like I had never
had an issue with weight. The thinnest I have been in my adult life!
Too the nurses of size I was the skinny girl?  But wait
no, I’m one of you!  But in this reality I was not. I had changed and no one
knew my secret.

There is a reason why hospitals are the backdrop for daytime television. Within
those walls everyone is dressed the same; just beneath those scrubs
lies a social structure resembling an ancient city. Where there are kings,
minions, the über educated, the socially retarded, the bad, and yes the good all mixed
together performing feats of greatness.

Receiving more attention from the male staff, than any one girl should
have, I had became the talk of this ancient city.  Doctors wanted to
know what I did.  Where I came from? This was mind boggling to me.
How could it be only a year ago I would be considered a health risk,
obese, high blood pressure, a surgical risk, did I mention obese by
these same men? Yet, because I shed my fat suit I had become the
new popular “it girl” in there society.
There was one man in particular who
found me fascinating; even though we had never actually met. He was considered by his colleagues and minions alike to be the Grand Puba of this strange new world. My life’s course was about to be altered!


Peach out bitches
~Reigan Riley

I found myself on a drug run, oh no not the illegal kind …..

The kind that girls from the age of 7 to 12 push in there cute little
green uniforms sporting the feats of greatness performed on a sash
across the chest like a badge of honor.

Yes that’s rite “the girl scouts” who ever came up with this concept
was genius, put adorable or not so adorable ( as the one I just I
encountered looked like she could take me with one paw tied behind her
ever expanding back shanks)  in cute outfits and infest the general
public with cookies that I’m sure have an addictive drug injected
into the chewy cookie center, that keeps us running back for more each February.
Why else would I, a reasonable woman of above average intelligence
sink to such depths?

As I drove from store to store in a sweat, my mission was clear.. get the
stinkin cookies, samoa’s to be precise………….

I had hit my wits end with my life bills piled high and I was recently divorced
and over the “ill show you stage” slowly my lifetime addiction to
food, for comfort, happy sad, board, celebrating or just plain
depressed.  The pounds crept back on, knowing this……instead of
doing what I should.. what I knew how to do, I gave up!

A cookie high was just what I needed. Which in reality what I needed was a boot to the butt, as in pull yourself together (scene from movie where woman’s
hysterical, slapped to sanity by hero). The problem was I was all I
had..and fresh out of heroes.

That day I spent more money than I had to be shelling out for such
nonsense, ate said drug of choice, wallowed in self pity, recounting
everything wrong with my life, followed by shame spiraling, and more
cookies.

I awoke the next morning called in sick and did the same thing all day
long( your thinking when is she going to get it together( hold please
work in progress) I did get it together, cleaned up my act and got back in that f-ing horse of life again.

It’s ok to pause and feel like you want to look homeless for a few days,
but then we all must get it together and go on.. try again and hope for
better, and know that it always works itself out.
What we don’t think about is this; we are so caught up in life’s
swell, and don’t get me wrong it’s all valid. Your reality.. mine.. the
woman in front of you at the grocery store paying for her kids dinner
with food stamps, the perfect looking chic buying her tofu.The truth
is we are all connected through our trials, we all have them, the
scenery is just painted different.

Be grateful for your problems, become empowered.

This too shall pass, be the strong capable women that is our god given
birth right.

Do not squander your power!

Peace out bitches!
~Reigan Riley

Settled

“His Mother waited until the kids went to college, then she left”

This coming from the small brunette in the center of the cluck, she
Continuities..”I could be in the car for 5 hours with him and not a word, he’s just
like his dad according to his mother, and he is!”

A profound statement coming from the kitchen area of a 747 (no wonder
plane food is so bad, have you seen the size of the prep area.  Barbie
has more counter space in her kitchen. Frozen thawed food, drinks poured, bread basket passed, over and over, I felt for the flight attendant (why did they stop calling them stewardess?)

I was on a 12 hour flight, board and thinking….Why did they stop
calling them stewardess’s?

 Once considered a glamorous profession.  The women back then did not
look like their counterparts of today whom I’m sure must butter said
hips with margarine pats before attempting a drink service.  These girls are large, not a hater, been there in fact I’m 3 months away from large if I stopped all the crap of constant exercise and
“clean food”

Have we become our own cliché ?  Why are professional cheerleaders
considered so glamorous while stewardess is a bad word, considered by
many a demeaning profession in the early days of flying.  As evolved
as we think we are ….we are not!  We have it all ladies, we can get
into any door with presentation.  Like or hate it, it’s true and has
always and WILL always be true.  We have an advantage; throw
intelligent powerful women in Shut up! We are unstoppable!


So liberated we no longer can appreciate our sex appeal? I’m all
for woman’s rights, but I learned long ago you can have respect and an
edge.  All of you out there thinking I’m prehistoric….
Think back to the last time you used your female wilds to catch a cab
or a drink in a packed bar. If you say never, your lying or missing
out.  Have you ever seen how men react when a woman with presence
walks into the room? I’m not saying beautiful , I’m saying a woman who
knows who she is and OWNS her femininity!  Get over yourselves if you
think it isn’t so.

These flight attendants continued regaling days of dating , the
husbands before they were lazy, never complimenting, silent, work
obsessed, play obsessed assholes of the grandest scale.

I believe we get what we allow ourselves to get. Where you are , where
I am ,is exactly where we have agreed to be.

Don’t get me wrong, we have no power over what or how other people act.
But we do get to say ; no thanks!

Own your glory, and our power as intelligent, beautiful interesting women.
Be kind, respectful and loving to yourself, if you don’t think you’re
worth it no one will.

Peace out bitches!

~Reigan Riley

About Me

About me…

Take it or leave it…here we go.

 I’ve been a fashion whore as long as I remember. My first actual memory is a pink velvet dress, strutting down a cat walk. I can remember every
dress my mother made for me as a child. Shoes are my favorite thing
in the world. I love being a girl (thank god my only sister is a
lesbian…no competition). Being reared in a repressed religious home, I
made a conscious decision not to be the Cheerio toting, frumpy, baby
machine, still wearing maternity clothes when your kid is 5. I saw
growing up in a religious community of frumps; you know the kind, the
ones who drive mini vans. Sorry ladies I never did. Not in even my
darkest hours, and never will. Not gonna happen to me. Well one thing
im sure of in life is this, what you resist, persists.
That’s exactly what I had become.


Fast forward ten years, I emerged a savvy, difficult to please,
reinvented working woman. A single mother…married the love of my
life, self proclaimed high maintenance bitch, never boring, moderately
funny, and the first girlfriend you call when the shits hittin’ the
fan,” if you don’t want it someone else will”, woman.

I promise you will not always agree with me, but you will always be
entertained in a real life, pull your head out of your ass, don’t take
yourself so frickin’ seriously approach to being a fabulous woman.
Working what you got, believe me sister we all got it, time to tap
into it, and im going to show you how!

Peace out bitches
~Reigan Riley

Torra Torra

Have you ever met someone who within minutes you feel as though you’re
BFFS but of course not fully trusting?  Did she want to kill me or skin
me and wear me as a tasteful coat? Oh yes, don’t think the thought didn’t cross my mind.


While being seated to have lunch the most fascinating thing happened to me. I was
drawn towards a window full of the most rabbis I have ever seen.
There was a Jewish gathering, as I found out a very special one.

I had a front row seat to the year long painstaking task of one man.
The signing of his Torra, each Hebrew letter perfectly written in
ancient tradition on lamb skin, celebrated with a gathering of high
ranking Rabi, and filthy rich Jews.

Showing proof you can buy good taste there were more channel bags than I have
ever seen in one place, 6 year olds with mini Louis Vuitton bags
slung over tiny shoulders, designer frocks one only sees in glossy
magazine pages, runway pieces, along with the spring’s most current
fashion, these women didn’t scrimp when it came to fur!
Ahhh the fur “nirvana.” If the wearing of fur offends you then get over
yourself. I’d sleep in mink sheets if I could.

While in Israel I learned the ancient history and practices of the people
who make up this fascinating country. I am truly forever changed in my
way of thinking about the simple things we here in the U.S. take for
granted.

I spotted her instantly, actually her very large, very red, very beautiful
bag ,”YSL I die.” She walked straight up to me while staring in the direction of the
reception and asked me if I was with the party going on inside or had I flown in on the private jet provided for the guest list. She promptly sat down as if we had been friends for years.
She is the perfect example of own your stuff, I am sure this woman
could crash a diplomatic party and be the toast. Meeting her friend
there for a coffee I soon learned her story and met her most
delightful friend.

Hailing from L.A having family in Israel, a self proclaimed busy body,
party crasher of the grandest scale, she was enthralled with the gem
she had stumbled into.  Phone calls were made, gossip trees
activated, this was a huge deal with political figures and press in
attendance.

Two coffees’ later the decision was made.
She would go into said festivities with security no less.
A fluffing of blond locks, lip-gloss and a straining of wardrobe she was
going in.  I watched as she worked her magic through the window
separating Jewish society from steerage class. I couldn’t believe my
eyes, in less time than it takes to devour a donut, she was receiving
a blessing by a high ranking Rabi for purposes of securing a husband
(she had never married)

Thank you Shera for your beautiful friendly self, for giving me belief in the human race again. There really are good trusting people out there. Good luck in your
life’s dreams and thank you for this story. Once again confirming in my belief, “that what we believe others will too.”

As I was leaving Israel there was a sense of leaving something behind,
an innate sadness. It took a journey half way around the world to find something I
thought I had lost long ago…my belief in something or someone bigger
than us.


Peace out bitches!
Reigan Reily

www.dontbesuchabitch.com Check it out!!

Bar Fly

 

Looking into the mirror, a fleeting thought crossed my mind. “What if I
met ’Him’ tonight?” I’m a hopeless romantic, and was single at the time. I
have always visualized things I need and want in my life, it has
worked for me as long as I can remember. Primping there, in my tiny, Pepto-Bismol pink bathroom, I had no idea what was about to transpire,

in the course of an evening.

” Bitter, party of one” was my mantra … I had all but given up on men,
marriage, and the dating circuit. Swearing off men, I put all thoughts
aside. I was going out with my delightful girlfriends to run amuck, wearing
a low-cut top and skin-tight jeans, (not because I wanted them tight, rather
because I had been eating my feelings for far too long).

Fast forward to the cute bartender, with whom Stacy was having a ridiculous

flirt-fest. Free drinks always followed her, wherever we went. We all
have that girlfriend, “the bait.” She had collectively saved us hundreds
of dollars, by using her fine tuned skill.

By the end of dinner, the chef and kitchen staff were standing
audience at our table. I must admit we were on fire, and old enough not to
care what fellow diners thought. We had paid our dues of insincerity,

awkward moments, and giving a crap.

Our crew headed for the bar, as I headed to the bathroom. I knew what

awaited the girls, … flirting, vodka, and more vodka . The grande dame of flirt

had a new victim, when I returned to the bar. Stacy was engaging a very tall,

cute man at the bar. He was having dinner alone, and quite enjoying

the attention he was getting. The conversation was as follows:  Harleys,

rides on back of said bike, flirt, yada yada, flirt, … “Oh brother!”

Did I mention that I have a lighting quick wit? My mother has always said,
“One would not know they were cut at the knees, until they walked away.”

(I know, “Don’t be such a bitch!”) This man was older, and had an air of self
confidence that we all found very intriguing, … I, perhaps, most of all.

Our “party token” proceeded to banter, and keep up with the pace. I was
concentrating on sucking in the inner tube, that had the audacity to still
be around my gut…. I know we’ve all been there, sucking it in and
smiling, trying to deliver oh so charming comebacks to prospective men, and
hoping they don’t see the evidence of months of  “on and off diets,” which
only leave us angry and puffy .

The tall stranger was invited to follow us to a jazz club…. I had
forgotten about the invitation, until, there in the door way stood said
man, looking for me. I instinctually walked over, and took him by the hand
into our lair (table).

Several rounds later … (He bought all the drinks, all night.)
There on the dance floor, in a hip little jazz club, it happend to me.
This gentle, giant of a man put shivers up my spine! He had no idea, as
I always give off an air of utter confidence, a fiery “Whatever! Who needs

a man?” attitude.

In that 10 minute window, at a bar, on the day celebrating my birth, my
world changed. I met the man of my dreams, the man I had waited for all
those years, enduring heartbreak, tears, loneliness, … all the while
wondering if I was truly lovable, and worthy. Would it ever happen to
me?

Those experiences made me who I am today. That night, I met a stranger … 

and married him 3 years later. He is, truly, the best man I have ever known,

the perfect balance to my wild, crazy ways.

Cherish where you are at this very moment. Embrace your journey, there
are no accidents. We must go through the crap, to get to where we

need to be. In the end, I am thankful for all the jerks I dated. Had I not
experienced those things, I would not have the wisdom to see the real deal.
There really are happy endings…. Marriage is a tough gig, but so worth
the ride!

To my darling husband, “You are my hero, and biggest fan. I love you.”


Peace out bitches!

Reigan Riley

Weight Loss

There have been many volumes written to describe, rationalize, and
subscribe to the weight loss obsession of most women in the United

States. Here is the boiled down version, “Put the fork down.” I can say

this with authority and indignation, as I have been a full-fledged fatty!

Cut the crap! We all know what we need to do, it’s not a mystery. The
fact is, its not fun, and it’s a lot of work, day in, and day out. We are
a society of whiners, we sit around on our ample asses, wanting an easy
way out. “News flash,” there is no fricken easy way out. You and I

make the decision to hold the fork, and keep it in the shoveling position.
I am every overweight woman, I know the consuming, life changing,
miserable, self-loathing thoughts and actions that overcome our lives.
The difference is, one day I took responsibility to change my life, and
take charge of my own self-defeating actions.
It’s a day at a time, it’s holding on for 10 minutes, when you can’t take

it anymore. The main issue is, the fatter we are, the more we want to

eat. Yes, like a drug addiction or any addiction. I’ve made drive-thru
orders that would feed a small country, and shame drives to midnight

donut runs, … nothing like a fat girl on a mission. Whatever you think is

embarrassing, I’ve done it … nothing would shock me.

It’s your birthright to be vibrant, happy, sexy, to feel good in your
own skin. What you put into your mouth, is all your doing. It’s really the

only thing you have control of in life, it’s your choice. That’s the good

news.

“I’ll start tomorrow.” No, … it’s now. If you don’t make it happen today,
it will only be there tomorrow and the next day, … and there you are,
wasting and hiding your beauty. Strap ‘em on ladies, make it happen!
Stop being a sniveling, whining, chip eating, not reaching your full
potential, … baby!

TO MY BELOVED GAYS

Is it the year 2012? The government is still trying to tell its people who they can love, as if it’s any of their fricken business! Land of the free … my ass.

I am appalled, and feel panicked at the thought of not being able to marry my husband. Having experience with the light and struggle of gays in this so-called modern age, my sister, who I adore, is one of my favorite people, and can make me laugh like no other. I watched her strife and angst as a teenager, trying to be true to herself, while being raised in a very religious home (we will get into that later). It was like watching a train wreck, seeing her go through all the stages of coming out to a disapproving parental unit. Some of my favorite people have been gay men, God love you, a man with a bitchy wit, and a keen sense of all things fabulous. If you want to know the truth … ask a gay man. I once had a gay man, sitting at a neighboring table in a chic restaurant, take me to the side and inform me that my “weave” was not working … if you’re out there, thank you.

To my darling sister, and all of you; I support, respect, and admire the tenacity with which you demand the right to be who you are meant to be!

-Reigan

Betrayal vs. The Doughnut

Betrayal vs. The Doughnut

I’m sure you have all experienced the “B word” from either a friend, or

multiple friends, “bitches,” a boyfriend, a husband, a sister, a daughter,

a mother, … I have experienced all of these in the last 30 days.

My first attack was on a bag of Cheetos and some dark chocolate. (Have

I mentioned my obsession with dark chocolate?) Then, a good cry, yes,

mascara flowing … feeling very sorry for myself! This was followed by 

more crying, Cheetos, a doughnut, and maltballs. Okay, now I’m sick,

and betrayed, and no one loves me, … ”waaaaaaaaa!”
A looser of sorts, not only have I lived through a cheating rat of an
ex-husband, but also a flock of asshole ”friends.” It’s amazing how I
attracted the weirdest, misfit group of people in my life. I thought that I
was the normal, sane one. No my dears, I was just as messed up, if not

more so, … a denial ridden mess, a hot mess actually.

Recently, I have been at odds with the following people:
1. My sister
2. My mother
3. My daughters
4. A girlfriend
5. A staff member
6. My daughters!
(This is the most painful, as any woman with children can attest.) No one 

can hurt you more, or break your heart more than that of your own blood,

sweat, and tears. A daughter is that and more, … mostly tears.
During the dark days known as teenage years, or the age demographic from
12 to 25, it has not stopped being a heartbreak. These are women you

invest your entire life in, … and yes, it is an investment. Anyone who says

different, has not been present in the lives of their children. No man can

inflict the rage, or pain one feels after being slapped with a fist of reality

across the face! The reality is that, although it’s wonderful raising strong,

powerful women … one forgets, one must then live with them!

So, while sitting in wrappers, with a tear soaked face, I had a thought….

“If all of these women are betraying me, not loving me, not being there for

me, … who’s fault is it?” Shit, shit, shit!  “It’s mine! I’m the problem, even

for a group of the utmost in bitchiness, it’s me!”
I’m the one with the issues? Am I the one betraying, not loving? … Not
being there, for me? If I’m not being present in my own life, and living it

authentically, why should they show up for me?

I will own some of it, mostly the part that I’m not loving myself
enough to demand respect, and hold them to being there for me. I have
many faults, but one is not being present for all the people that I love.
By taking responsibility for my relationships not working, I take the
power back. When we are eating our feelings, it’s just us not feeling
we have our own power. I also need a reality check on my own bitching!
Enough food, tears, and shopping! I have officially pulled myself up by
the big girl panties and said, “It’s me too! What can I change today?”
Girls, don’t hate, participate. It’s not all “them,” you are part of them too!

Quit your bitchin’, and get on with it.