I’ll Always Be Not Skinny In L.A….Just Smaller.

It’s 6:30AM, let the games begin.

11AM – Hair.  1:30PM – Make Up.  4PM – Red Carpet.  5PM – EMMY AWARDS.  It’s fucking on!

Today will not suck.  I will not be hiding.  I will not be groaning and moaning as I sweat my ass off getting dressed.   I am not wearing something  just because it fits with two, yes, two layers of Shapers.  I will be able to breath.

I started Ideal Protein on Saturday January 24, 2015.  I weighed in at One Hundred & Ninety Two Pounds.  SIGH.  No one, not even The Duke knows that number but now, I can Shout…Shout…Let it all out…  One.  Ninety.  Two.  Fuck me.

I knew very little about the program but I ran into one of my Casting Executives from a Network and he had mentioned he did Ideal Protein – how great it was, how great he felt and I’m thinking yeah, yeah, get to the good stuff. How many fucking pounds have you lost in how little amount of time?  That’s all I cared about (and it’s the first question I get from people when they ask what I’ve been doing).  Not the healthiest way to look at it, but shit, I’ve been at this since 2010 after Magoo was born.  I ducked out of Premieres, Awards Shows, Screenings, Wrap Parties, not to mention, would not even consider putting a swim suit on or take a family photo,  because I felt gross.  In fact last year, when we were nominated for a Casting Emmy (our very first thank you very much) which I lost about 12 – 15 lbs before the event (I gained it right back – duh) – people told me I looked gorgeous and honestly, I did – for where I was at.  For me personally, I was just happy because I didn’t despise the way I looked.  I still wasn’t at a place where I felt good.

Ideal Protein is not for the faint of heart.  It’s for those of us who are truly ready to kick some ass.  It’s a commitment and I mean commitment – a giant fucking list of  “No” and a tiny little list of “Yes'”.  I told my Consultant, Debbi who is a fucking Rock Star,  I have two non-negotiables:  Half & Half and Tito’s Vodka.  She tells me Half & Half is OK, but if I could hold off on the booze for at least a month it would serve me well.  I think I just made the “at least a month” part up because it’s what I wanted to hear.  Fairly certain she said no booze until I reach my goal which clearly did NOT happen.  I went one month like I planned to and then would just drink on weekends.  The first two weeks SUCKED. Absolutely sucked and within that first two weeks, I had a Premiere, The Superbowl with my Patriots playing and yes, winning (save your Deflategate bullshit for another forum).  From that point on,  it was out of town guests, wrap parties, more Premieres, a visit to my parents in Florida,  Easter (almost at 25lbs gone by this point), trip to Arizona, Birthdays, Get togethers, everything that makes up Life.   All with the everyday fucking stresses of Working Motherhood.  But in all that chaos, this diet, this commitment, this discipline of bringing my pouches of IP Food, Radishes, Cucumbers or anything else that was allowed everywhere so I would stay on course, didn’t make me an aggravated assailant.  It made me strong.

According to my scale after my morning coffee, today, I weigh in at 149.6.  There is a fucking FOUR in the number and I haven’t seen THAT since high school.  I went from almost 200 pounds and a size 16 to what we see today and a size 10 and in SOME designers, dare I say an 8.  What the fuck?!?!

My initial weight loss goal was 45 lbs.  I almost gave in at 36lbs but I DIDN’T.  I had a “eat whatever the fuck I want weekend” and refocused and am now literally 2.6 pounds away from my goal.  Crawling through mud at this point fighting for every ounce.  With my Salt & Vinegar chips in my fancy Emmy clutch along with a Protein shake, I feel strong.  I’m not giving up.  I need this goal for more reasons than just a cute ass and who knows, maybe I’ll keep going.  Anything is possible.

But fear not my amazing Not Skinny readers.  I will ALWAYS be Not Skinny In L.A., just a little smaller.




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Pineapple Chocolate Chip Cookies

Every once in awhile it hits me like a fucking mack truck:  I’m a Motherless Daughter.

This past weekend was the big Fair for the Church where Magoo attends Pre-School. The requirements were pretty rigorous for a Working Mom.  Shit. Bake something for the bake sale and that means, Bake – not purchase baked items for sale. Jeez, I got it. Donate a case of bottled water (forgot that one). Donate $20.00 and volunteer to work a booth for a two hour period (had to get out of the last one). The one thing I do try and do is Bake. On Birthdays, I Bake. Mind you, I don’t go Pinterest crazy because really, who has the fucking time for that, but I do make the appearance that I AM baking. Toss the Box in a bowl, add the egg and whatever else I’m supposed to and off I go. For this one, Trader Joe’s Blondie Bar mix with my own special ingredient handed down from my Mom, crushed Pineapple. Out of nowhere as I ripped open that box of ingredients waterworks- pouring down my face, because in one second, I understood. I understood My Mom.

I was a Brownie which for those of you who are too young to remember, it’s a Girl Scout for ages 5 – 9. I know, hard to believe that I took an oath to do anything but I did and I was a pretty goddamn good Brownie if I do say so myself. The meetings were after school in the auditorium of our grammar school and though I don’t remember for the life of me what we did in said meetings, I do remember snnnnnack tiiiiiiime! Truth be told, probably why I joined. One kid was assigned each month to bring the snack so when it was my turn I let my Mom know immediately and per usual, she forgot. She was a workaholic with no Google Calendar. No gigantic fucking Dry Erase Boards back in the day mapping out a month of to do’s. No scheduled playdates to keep track of  (we went outside and played with our neighborhood friends – remember that?). We had dance classes, Brownie Meetings and maybe the appropriately scheduled Doctor and Dentist appointments and that was it. Easier, amazing times. My Mom worked late every night. Just what she did. She owned her own Hair Salon and it was her passion – she loved it. It was her life aside from her kids and maybe, if I had to speculate, her escape… though from what, I’ll never know. On said late night, probably 9PM or so, I reminded her tomorrow was my day to bring snack. For sure with her coat still on and a Merit cigarette hanging from her mouth, she began the From Scratch process of her infamous Pineapple Chocolate Chip Cookies. No complaints of exhaustion. No arguing whether I told her or not. Just started doing what needed to get done.

On a daily basis, I am reminded of those Pineapple Chocolate Chip Cookies. Huh? Honest. I hated them. Truly.  I just wanted good ole Chocolate Chip Cookies. Gooey – fucking – sugary deliciousness but noooooo, My Mom wanted to make something special. Something gourmet and different. Where was my gratitude? Where was my understanding of how hard she worked and yet still made sure I went off  with a gourmet snack for my fellow Brownie’s? Did I mention on that particular night, she stayed up until 1AM getting it done? I knew she worked hard in general but I did not realize just how hard until Magoo and Lil Red came about. She never complained about how tired she was. Never. Not like we do today. I think we can all agree that the Career Woman / Business Owner of years past is not the Career Woman / Business Owner of today simply by way of technology. From the moment I wake up at 7AM (if I’m lucky) until I go to bed at 11PM I am tied to my iPhone (goddamn I miss my fucking BlackBerry). There is no start or stop time to a work day for The Real Hollywood Mom. None. And it isn’t just me.  It’s ALL The Real Hollywood Moms. My Actor friends. My Executive friends. My Production friends. My Agent Friends. All of them. It is an industry that has, most of the time, such a false sense of urgency. I’m sure it’s the same for other business’ but this is the Biz I know so this is the place where I speak from. Hollywood in general is a What we are doing is so fucking important and serious that I must have your full attention at all times kind of business.  Such ridiculous amounts of  pressure attached to things that simply are not urgent 99.9% of time. And by the way, I get it. A lot of money is at stake when producing television or film but not everything is life or death but we must play the game if we want to be in it.

SO, here little me was with my adorable poney tails in my fantastic Brownie uniform… the Leader took my beautiful plate of Pineapple Chocolate Chip cookies and lay it with the other snacks. When snack time came, I was so proud. I remember it, Proud. My Working Career Mom who worked no less than 55 hours a week came through. She showed up. Not only was she beauty encapsulated and smelled like the beach, she didn’t let me down. How fucking lucky was I? When it REALLY mattered, she showed up.

Not one of those little bitches ate my Mom’s cookies. They wouldn’t even try them. Not. One. They didn’t like the Pineapple (insert whiny voice). They, like me, wanted just plain ole Chocolate Chip Cookies and let’s be honest, what 7 year old back then wouldn’t?  Kids are simple and we forget that nowadays with bullshit Pinterest being the Devil and all. Yeah, I hate Pinterest. I Fucking. Hate it. Not that I’ve ever even really navigated it because I can’t – nor do I want to figure it out.  Hate me.  I don’t care, it’s fucking over the top stupid.

As the meeting came to an end and I was helping with clean up because of course, I was the last kid to get picked up, the Leader said Here, you should take these home so they don’t go to waste. Excuse me?  NO! My Mom stayed up until 1AM making these goddamn cookies. SHIT. I waited in terror with the plate of cookies by myself in front of the school (remember no big deal to leave a kid waiting alone for a ride…simple times people, simple times). What the fuck was I going to tell my Mom? How do I tell this woman that not one of these bitches wanted her beautiful amazing gourmet cookies?  Do I eat half and proclaim the rest leftovers? I hated them too. Blech. Nope. I threw all 36 perfect Pineapple Chocolate Chip Cookies, right in the trash. In the trash! Like any kid I was taught not to lie. To tell the truth and for the most part, I did until I saw my exhausted Mother pull up in the Dodge Omni, Merit cigarette and all looking so pretty even in her exhaustion. To this day, I’m not a very good liar so I didn’t say much. Said my joyous Hi! and tossed the Tupperware in the back seat. She was my everything and I simply couldn’t risk hurting her the way the bitches had hurt me. She was my Mom and no matter how imperfect she was, she was my perfection. She died never knowing that no one ate her Pineapple Chocolate Chip Cookies.

I am today’s Career / Business Owning Mom.  There is urgency and rush in everything I do. What I am doing right now, is just the thing before I have to do the next thing whatever that next thing may be. I fight the 405 daily just to try and make it home for dinner, play time outside after dinner or bedtime. When Magoo and Lil Red act like little assholes -or yes – like toddlers, it hurts my heart. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. So what that they’re only 4 and 2 1/2. Why am I trying SO fucking hard if they don’t give a shit?  Because I’m a Mom.  Simple as that.

While I’m not the type to place them on a perpetual pedestal, I know they know and feel in their heart, I showed up. Mom shows up when it really matters and even at times when it doesn’t. No matter how busy I am, they are number ONE, even on the days they really are not.





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How many times do you feel like Marge?

Just another day as The Real Hollywood Mom.



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Back To 10 Update: Mrs Myth & Freshology

Fuck! I’ve been doing Freshology since February 18th. There. I said it. Now you know and I am no longer lying by omission. I was at my lowest low or rather my highest high and I couldn’t fucking do anything about it. I didn’t have the strength. I didn’t have the energy. I didn’t have focus. I didn’t have will power. I didn’t have discipline. I definitely didn’t have it in me to make good choices. It’s the worst feeling. I was lacking everything necessary to make the change that I wanted to make and on top of that it was Pilot Season – my absolute busiest time of the year. The time when our meals are Pop Chips, Pizza and Tito’s desk-side at ten o’clock at night. What I did have, because it’s my busiest time of the year, was the money to do it. Could it have gone to something different, maybe a little less extravagant, sure. But in my highest high, I decided to make myself the extravagant priority.

Smart, Fierce, Badass, Interesting and unknowingly, Inspiring = the very famous Actress we were meeting with.  The day was February 13th and was one of those record breaking L.A. gorgeous days checking in at 90 degrees. I had been in auditions all morning with my Producers and was scrambling to get out, go pick up Magoo from Pre-School, run her home then get back to a 1:30 meeting with the one and only Wife Of The Biggest Movie Star who happens to have the most common last name of last names (have you guessed who yet?). Not an easy thing with L.A. traffic but somehow, while sweating my ass off, I made it happen with a few minutes to spare and I think GREAT, I’ll change my outfit. I run in and quickly throw on my very new, very hip, very cool Free People shirt that perfectly covers the C-Section shelf of a stomach, skinny jeans, and my go to sexy boots. With the Fantastic Fucking Hair Day I was having I thought “huh, OK, not bad, I look pretty damn good and dare I say really good?” Shit. For me, YES, really good.

I seriously have the best job in the world and this is one of the very reasons I LOVE IT! I get to meet interesting, talented, smart artists and this one also happens to be a Mom of two herself. It’s just inspiring to meet Women in this business that I admire on so many levels. This is exciting people! She walks in, all 5 feet nothing of her, wearing Blue Patent Leather pants, some unbelievable Stiletto Gucci Boots (I’m making the Gucci part up but let’s be real, they ain’t from  DSW that’s for fucking sure), a Corset Top with a Blue Silk Shirt over it and half her fabulous GORGEOUS head shaved. She. Is. Perfection. I mean I know it’s her JOB to be that thing, that everything she is, but come ON. It seemed effortless.

I nodded, smiled and interjected when appropriate but my god I could barely concentrate on what I was supposed to be concentrating on. I just kept thinking HOLY FUCKING SHIT I have to get it together. Yes. My mind wondered from business for a moment. How could it not? And the worst part, or, let’s be honest, the best part about her, is that my shit was my own. She doesn’t bring the energy to make anyone feel less than she is. Pretty fucking cool as far as I’m concerned.

I ran not walked but RAN back to my office did not return any phone calls, did not pick up any calls, I went straight online and did the deed. I love it. I’m not gonna lie but I do feel like a failure. I feel like I let a lot of people down but mostly myself. I pride myself on being strong.  I pride myself on making things happen that I want to happen but I simply needed the most help I could find and didn’t care what the fuck I was paying for it. The Freshology food, my delicious and expensive food is delivered to my door step in a locked little cooler with ice packs and instructions. Everything for entire day is in my cooler. I have to think about nothing. Nothing but: is it served Hot or Cold and if it’s served Hot then it’s two minutes for breakfast or lunch and three minutes for dinner. That. Is. It. That is all the thinking that is required. And I repeat, the food is fucking fantastic. So week one I lost six pounds and it was worth every penny. Week two I lost three pounds and week three was when we discovered I had the Small Watermelon living inside me. All I wanted to do was eat an entire bag of Kettel Chips and not the skimpy little individual size,I wanted the come to Mama, I need to feed some fucking emotions size (Lightly Salted of course) and drink several Tito’s and Soda from the stress. But I didn’t!!!! I held strong. Didn’t cheat at all.   Ok, that ‘s a lie. I did cheat in Week four (the week leading up to my surgery). I had spoonfuls of Soynut Butter and Jelly. A bunch of them but no bread. Like I used to do when I was stoned….hilarious and so, so fucking good. Even when I was in the hospital, I couldn’t eat immediately following surgery but I made The Duke bring my cooler and for the rest of my three day stay, I ate my Freshology food.

I am now the lowest weight I’ve been since I became pregnant with Magoo. Yes it’s half having two large cycsts removed along with Lady Parts and my dedication to my Freshology Meals…it’s going to be up from here. I’ve eased the beating up on myself for needing more than counting points but rather having it all layed out for me because sometimes a girl needs some extra help. I’ve struggled with asking for help for a long time but paying for help well that seems much easier.

I know there will come a time that I will have to think for myself again and when that time comes I will be ready. But for now, I thank you, Mrs Last Name that rhymes with Myth for giving me a much needed kick in my ass and you, Freshology (which by the way, has THE best customer service of anywhere!).

My soon to be svelte size 10 Ass will be walking by you one of these days. It’s ok. You can absolutely  look.

xo Dee

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I’m out!

Dr G just said I can go home!  As much as I have loved having my little Spa Weekend at St John’s Hospital, I want to be in my own bed, with my own remote and a Cable Provider that gives me Bravo!

What was supposed to be Outpatient turned into a two night stay.  What was supposed to be Laparoscopic became an invasive procedure cutting me open yet again, along my C-Section incision.  What was supposed to be the removal of a Small Watermelon Cyst became that plus a little fucker the size of an Orange which was hiding on the bottom of my Uterus.  But we got it all out.  All of it.  I already can feel the difference  and it feels fucking amazing and it’s NOT just the pain meds making say that….although I am so so so so so Fucking happy right now.

I did not say anything inappropriate while going under.  I won the prize of Star Patient by all the Nurses and I did not punch the old lady down the hall that would not stop whining LOUDLY Nurse!  Nurse!  Nurse!  Nurse! throughout my entire visit here with these nice people.

I’d like to give a shout out to the most fucking awesome Dr David Ghozland.  Not only is he hot (not important I know but it doesn’t hurt), but he is the BEST Gyno / OBGYN ever.  Perfect combination of real-no bullshit -straight talk and  so much compassion.

My nurses starting with Katherine who checked me in and tolerated by meltdown getting the IV and Angel, Norina, Keshiia, Felipe and Laila who did not think I was a pain in the Ass.  I hope to never see your beautiful fucking faces again.

And to The Duke who handled the last week like the fucking champ he is.  We only got into 3 arguments (I think) which given the stress levels of the situation is pretty fucking good and we also managed to laugh our asses off along the way.  Okaaayyyy.  Pain Meds really starting to kick in so I will end here before the rambling begins…..

All my Love,


Dee Kras

The Real Hollywood Mom




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