Before She Broke the Internet

Photo:  Paper Magazine 2014

Before she tried to break the Internet, we broke secrets of Kim Kardashian's flawless looks. 

Kim has featured some of her favorite places in my Santa Monica neighborhood on her reality show.  I was astonished when I ran into her that she is quite gorgeous and even more petite than me, except her booty!

During a recent season of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, I interviewed celebrity beauty expert Dana Waldie about treatments and products stars like Kim use to get their red carpet looks.  

Check out the links below for tips on everything from choosing makeup to help you get that celebrity glow to determining the best facial treatment for your skin type. 

Keeping Up with the Kardashians beauty series:

Part 1:  Look younger without injections

Part 2:  What it's like working on a TV set

Part 3:  Expert tips for a flawless face

Part 4:  How to get the best facial for you

Is there really any value in Kim's full frontal strip show for Paper magazine?   True beauty isn't measured by the junk in your trunk but by the light of a soul set ablaze.  Still, no harm in stealing a few A-list beauty secrets.

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Runways and Red Carpets

Victoria Beckham.  Photo:  Elle Magazine 2014

Bring on the spice! Over the past year, I've been working with stylists and makeup artists and health experts who make the stars look so good.  They've been sharing secrets from the runway to the red carpet. 

I was never one of those girls who's obsessed with fashion or makeup or perfectly flat abs. Now I have a new appreciation for the creative ones who work in those industries. Instead of shunning the culture of beauty, my goal has been to embrace it in a way that's helpful to women. 

One of the God-given desires of a woman's heart is to feel beautiful. I was being handed so many helpful ways that have transformed my confidence that I wanted to share them. Here's a compilation of videos with guests from my lifestyle webisodes. For more on any of the A-list tips, you can check out full videos on my YouTube channel.

I'm so grateful for you, creative ones. And for you, for sharing this beautiful adventure!

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The Image in the Mirror

Thrilled to be shooting a web series with Wilhelmina Models Danika Brysha!  Danika's a plus-size model helping girls and women fight eating disorders and body image issues. 

I think every woman wrestles with the reflection in the mirror at some time.  At my first TV job, viewers would tell me I was too fat. To my face.  And then I'd go home and look in a mirror that also condemned me...

I still don't own a full length mirror. 

I've written about the pressure to be thin in TV before and how it nearly sabotaged my career (click here to read) but I've never really shared the depth of the issue.  

That's why I love partnering with Danika - because she's so vulnerable and honest about her journey as you'll see in our latest video:

We plan to shoot a few videos before she heads to New York to take her modeling career to the next level. We'd love your feedback and check out my Facebook page for more.

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Mean Girls

Lindsay Lohan star of "Mean Girls."  Photo:  Humza 

A talent agent told me I come off too sweet. "Too 'pink,' not enough flavor," she said. "We need to see the naughty in you."

I can hear my childhood friends roaring with laughter.  I was a mean girl long before Lindsay Lohan.  

The trouble started in 1st grade with a new kid at school.  He  didn't fit in wearing Sunday clothes to school.  He cut in line at recess. I punched him.  He socked me in the eye.

By 4th grade I'd moved on to bullying - teachers. "Hey, guppy lips!"  I taunted one who had a mouth like Mick Jagger.  

Another time Mrs. L. broke down in tears as I led a class revolt against 'the witch.' 

By high school I was hanging out with a crew of misfits who cut class and drank Mickey's in the park. 

Despite the trouble, A's came easy.  "You're going to college," my dad insisted, shipping me off to the Ivy League with the warning, "I don't do bail once you're 18."   

Later as a crime reporter, I confronted killers, gang members, sleazy politicians, with the steeliness of a true mean girl. 

Yet God - radical love - had somehow begun to pierce a hardened heart. 

Too sweet? A friend put it best: "When you're looking for a brand of 'edgy' that is filled with desperation, despondency, depression and dejection and encounter a different brand of edgy filled with love, joy and peace it's difficult to deal with." 

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Girls Who Wear Pink

Kendra Wilkinson & Hank Baskett.

As a kid, I did not wear pink.  I lived in sneakers and overalls and my dad's army boots.  I loved clomping around in  his big, spiffy combat boots.  They were black and shiny and made me feel fierce and unstoppable.  

I still prefer to wear combat boots over high heels but thanks to a Playboy Playmate, I'm finally becoming one of those girls who wear pink (not a bunny suit!). 

I tuned in to the TV show Kendra on Top to watch a friend's guest appearance on reality the show. The show follows a racy former Playmate and her husband, Hank, as they leave the fast lane for family life. I caught an episode about Hank training to break into TV after retiring from the NFL. 

Watching Hank work with a TV hosting coach, I wondered if she might be able to help me, too.  Newscasters have a distinct on-air style that's gotten in my way when I audition for more creative roles.  At one commercial test, a cranky agent even snapped, "I want you to sell the sugar, not put it on the news." 

A phone call and $600 later, I was signed up for a weekend with Hollywood's self-professed Queen of Hosting. Marki Costello's roster includes celebrities like Cee Lo, Khloe Kardashian and many more.  

Time to step up my game fast. Hosting Boot Camp was just a month away. 

Since we'd be filming against in a green screen studio, I knew I'd need new clothes.  My closet is full of dark and neutral colors that look fine for reporting in the field but that are way too dull in the studio.  

Time had come to join the girls who wear...

Yep.  Pink would perfectly "pop" with my skin tone.  Bought my first-ever pink blouse.  Hope it looks okay with combat boots.

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Dark Chocolate & D Cups

Halle Berry.  Photo: Entertainment Rundown.

Checking out the audience at a recent Hollywood event, not a stray hair or scuffed Jimmy Choo in the house, it was striking to see a room of mostly Black women. 

They call themselves Dark Chocolate.

The SAG-AFTRA event, part sorority/part pep rally, was hosted by a group that is fighting Hollywood's pervasive stereotype of leading ladies:  big breasts, light skin, size zero.  Black women, especially those with dark skin and curves, barely stand a chance at being cast in starring roles. 

 "Name five dark chocolate women in romantic leads on TV or in movies," the host challenged. No one could. 

Industry figures show people of any color are hired for less than 15% of all roles. In fact, Hollywood remains one of the only places where hiring discrimination based on skin color, size or age is still legal.

One of Halle Berry's stunt doubles (looking even thinner than the 5'7," 123 pound Oscar winner) sat by me so we started talking.  "Halle gave me a chance and it grew from there," Eva (not her real name) said.

Eva encouraged me to consider stunt training after I mentioned my recent skydive (omitting all the shrieking). She said a good place to start is with precision driving, where skill matters more than skin color or breast size since the actual driver seldom gets screen time.

Realistically? Doors aren't going to fly open anytime soon for women like me.  But like Eva said, you just have to be ready when one does like it did for Halle's team - which even includes a MALE double. 

Halle Berry's Catwoman stunt double (The Honolulu Advertiser photo)

Yes, a MAN (Nito Larioza) performed many of Halle's sexy-fierce Catwoman moves!

Sometimes talent does triumph over fair skin and D cups.

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Jump Cut

Photo: Maria Peterson Photography

"Mommy says my legs are fat," the little girl said quietly.

I'm all for fighting childhood obesity but she didn't even look chubby. Labeled "fat" by first grade, I wondered what demons lurked in her future: self-hatred? depression? perfectionism?

I was such a perfectionist that a professor worried I'd crack under the intense pressure of a TV career. 

"You're too hard on yourself," she cautioned as I tried to fix a jump cut (an unintentional edit in news that makes it look like there's a jump between two shots) in my story.

While a jump cut isn't fatal, there's no room for imperfection when performance is measured frame-by-frame. The bad edit was like a neon sign: FAILURE. FAILURE. FAILURE.

To prepare us for TV's relentless demands, certain mistakes meant automatic failure. 

Misspelled name? "F." 

Mispronounced city? "F." 

Late to class? Don't bother coming. "Doesn't matter who you are," our professor warned, "the news airs without you."

It took years for me to see the difference between perfectionism and excellence. I finally got it when I heard a speaker say, "If your perfect life is coming between you and love, you're paying too high a price."

What he meant is: If your husband is afraid to kiss you for fear of smudging your perfect makeup and your kids walk on eggshells for fear of ruining your perfect house, then your perfect life costs too much.

For the times when life is messy or our thighs are fat or there's a jump cut in our story, perfectionism is unforgiving; excellence gives grace.

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Brides, Brooms and Grooms

I've been home visiting family and a four-year-old who quoted me lines from Disney's The Princess and the Frog while insisting we rehearse for my wedding. 

Never mind that I'm not engaged.

Four-year-old is dead set to be a flower girl. She's decided I'm her best bet. 

"Let's practice for your wedding," she said, "You just need a broom."  Took me a second to realize she meant groom not broom.

I wasn't about to leave the warm diner where we were sharing Mickey Mouse pancakes for a fake ceremony in the cold. I tried offering alternative relatives.

"Practice with my niece," I said.

"Not her," four-year-old rolled her eyes dramatically, implying niece is a bad girl.

"What about grandma?" I tried.

"She has too many wrinkles," countered future Bridezilla.

Ever try arguing with a four-year-old wearing a pink tutu and tin foil tiara?  Arms linked, we walked slowly through the restaurant humming, "Here Comes the Bride."  Never mind strangers staring - when you're four, nothing inhibits love.

Surrendering the heart is so much harder as adults. I thought of several friends who are having marital trouble.  Love has grown cold. 

But then I remembered Solomon, the king who falls for an improbable bride: "See! The winter is past. Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, come with me."

Flower girl may have seen one too many Disney flicks but I envied her openness to love.

Maybe the weather wasn't so bad after all. "Shall we walk like brides out to the car?" I asked. She excitedly replied, "And if you don't get a broom, maybe you can borrow my daddy!"

Love really is simple when you're four.

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Champions

Maria Peterson Photography

My childhood friend, Stello, came to visit and we got to talking about junior high. We can remember our first crushes but for the life of us we can't remember why we started calling eachother by our last names - and still do.

We played soccer a lot back then. We can still recall our team's starting lineup:  Stello, me, Missy, Ruthie, Pam...

An undefeated season took us to the district championships against our biggest rival. Coach kept us starters in the whole game but the score stayed tied at zero.  Exhausted, we faced a kickoff.

Each of us remembers that game a little differently. Stello, at center, was held scoreless at the front line. I missed a penalty kick, something that hadn't happened all season. Our goalie let a ball dribble by her. 

And our rival? Well, they made one lousy kickoff point.

We'd bawled unashamedly. We hadn't played just to win a title or to impress a boy on the sidelines. We had played for eachother. I had wanted my teammates to be champions more than I had wanted it for myself and they had wanted the same for me. 

But in the end we'd fallen short. Our season was over.

"Why do we still care about a soccer game so long ago?" I asked Stello before she left.  She thought awhile and then wrote in my notes, "What would the world be like if we cared more about the other's success than our own?"

So decades later defeat finally lost its sting as we imagined a world that looked like it did back on that soccer field.  First crushes included, of course.

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Girly Girls and Tomboys

I'm still trying to decide whether to keep blogging. It seems a bit narcissistic and I'm not sure I want my thoughts archived for just anyone to read. Some friends have encouraged me to keep writing though, so here goes.

A lot of people told me it was crazy risky to head for an unknown future in Hollywood. Maybe they were right, based on some of the advice I've been getting.

So I've been advised to look more "Hollywood" - closer to how directors would cast me. 

The problem is my outside says "girly girl" - not just any girly girl, the PERKY one - but my inside still screams tomboy.  Don't let my curves and sweet demeanor fool you.

I was such a tomboy growing up that I'd charge girls a nickel for "protection" on the grade school playground.  For five cents, I'd threaten the boys with boxing moves my dad taught me if they tried to peek under the girls' dresses to see their underpants.

I was pretty intimidating. So strong and fast and TALL (early growth spurt) that our sixth grade teacher even gave me my own gym class along with her son. Brett and I were the biggest kids in school; teachers were afraid we might accidentally maim the other kids kicking a soccer ball or tackling them.

My self-image apparently remains rooted back on the playground (though I haven't threatened to beat anyone up. lately).  

Still, my acting coach is encouraging me to work on the girly stuff.  You know: wearing more makeup; slapping extensions in the hair; wearing more form-fitting clothes - the kind of stuff that matters immensely in Hollywood.  

And so I'm reminded of a viewer's advice at my first TV job. She'd written a note on a Kleenex saying: "Honey, blot your lips!"  

So here I am in Hollywood. Finally blotting.

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