Little Red Diary

What do you think when you look in the mirror?

2005-10-28T18:06:56Z

Before I became Mrs. Gabrielle Solis, trophy housewife to Carlos Solis, I was a well-known model. A well established model. I was a model who was wanted by every magazine cover, by every cosmetics company, by...well...everyone. I'm not boasting about it, nor am I showing off. I'm being truthful. Completely, blatantly, unerringly truthful. I was wanted. I still am, but that is a different story altogether. I do at least an hour of yoga everyday, along with a half hour of pilates. I also run for five miles a day. There's also the fact that I do some light weight training three times a week with a blatantly sexy trainer. (What? Like that's a crime? It's not like I'm sleeping with him. That's reserved for my gardener, thank you very much.) I'm quite the athletic woman, and I have to be if I want to keep my figure as flawlessly amazing as it has been for years now. So, why am I saying all this? Simple. It's to illustrate how goddamn attractive I am. So what do you think it is that I think whenever I look in the mirror. Yep, that's exactly it. God, Gabrielle, you're so exquisitely beautiful. You have no right.

Muse: Gabrielle Solis

Fandom: Desperate Housewives

Words: 204

Most People Wish That I....

2005-10-01T06:41:17Z

Most people wish that I was a little less, well, like me. I mean, let's be real and face it shall we? I'm gorgeous. I'm just plain fucking gorgeous. There is nothing about me that isn't to like. My eyes, my lips, my skintone, my toned figure. I'm a vision of perfection. And I know that people hate me for it, I can tell that people hate me for it. How can they not? I was a supermodel. I graced magazine commercials, I was cover girl for more than a dozen fashion publications - sometimes competing publications within the same month. Heads turn when I walk into a room, and puddles of drool form on the ground, as well as puddles of some less savory substances. But what can I do about that? I'm perfection personified, lust given free, uninhibited human form. I know that they all hate me for it. Susan, Lynette, Bree, and especially Edie. They won't say anything because they love me, but there are those nights when we all go out, when the waiter pays me that extra little speck of attention...you can tell that they try not to seeth with anger out of love for me...but it can't be helped. I am who I am...even if people wish I wasn't.

Muse: Gabrielle Solis
Fandom: Desperate Housewives
Words: 215

Has anyone ever betrayed you?

2005-08-22T07:57:28Z

I don't like children. I don't do children. (Well, alright, I am doing my gardener, John Rowland, but that's a different kind of "do". Besides, he's eighteen years old now, so it's not like he's a child. Not really.) I'm sorry, but something about them - little itty bitty children - just puts me off. And when I say "puts me off", I don't just mean off sex, I mean off everything. I know, I know, I was a child once too. So what? It's not like I asked to be born, though thank god I was because look at me. Just look at me. Cindy, Claudia and Naomi were all jealous of me. Still are, from what I hear.

Lynette Scavo is one of my best friends, and she has these little kids. Three or four of them. I love Lynette, I do...but good god if her children aren't spawn of Rosemary. I don't know how she deals with it, I really don't. She has lovely features, and I'm sure that she had a great figure before marriage, but after bearing all those children, her hips are just a little wider than they really need to be. Not that it takes away from her beauty, but she just looks so...maternal. And, maternal beauty is different from, well, me. I'm - and really, let's be honest here - perfect. I'm perfect from head to toe. There is no way I would flaw any of my priceless perfection by having children. Not at the cost of this gorgeous thing that I see when I stand in front of the mirror every morning.

But that exactly is what's happened to me now. I'm pregnant. Me. I'm the woman who is as religious about taking her birth control pills as Carrie White's mother was about, well, religion itself. But those aforementioned birth control pills? They were placebos. They were placebos planted by my husband Carlos who - Hermes help me - wants children. He wants me - me - to bear him a good large load of children. When we married, we had decided that I wouldn't ever bear children for him. I mean, that is what they have orphanages for, right? For women who don't want to spoil their figures by getting pregnant? Right. I tried explaining that to Carlos, but he has some silly notion stuck in his head that it would be better to have children who are of his own bloodline. Honestly, why couldn't we just adopt and hire a nanny?

I've been through a lot in my life, with my mother, with my stepfather, with various men I've used to get to where I am today, but never, never have I felt the betrayal I felt when I discovered that I was pregnant, that the birth control pills that I had so religiously been taking had in fact not been birth control pills at all. Carlos was - is - my husband. We got married on a foundation of trust - alright, and some manipulation on my part, but hey...manipulation is my right. How he could do something like this without ever telling me, that hurt. That hurt to the core. And I didn't expect it to hurt, because I'm not vulnerable. I shouldn't be vulnerable. But there it is - my vulnerability out for the whole world to see through Carlos' betrayal of me, through his greedy need to have children.

And the worst part is that I don't even know if the child is Carlos' or John's.

Muse: Gabrielle Solis

Fandom: Desperate Housewives

Words: 591

What is the one thing about yourself that you don't want anyone ever to know?

2005-08-22T07:30:38Z

Wisteria Lane.

Yes, it looks like the perfect little suburb. Cute and pleasant and warm. It's straight out of Pleasantville. But that's just it's exterior. Fact is, Wisteria Lane is a darker street than you'd like to imagine, a darker street than anyone would like to imagine. It's not without it's secrets, as anyone would unwillingly let you know, if you forced them to.

Don't believe me? Ask anyone. Ask Susan Mayer from across the street, or Lynette Scavo, the former career woman with four kids, or even ask Bree Van de Kamp, whose husband Rex is in the hospital. No...Wisteria Lane is a wilted flower, dead and ugly to look at, much like cheap potpurri, that smells nice, but is otherwise all bad.

Each and everyone of us here have our secrets. Am I one of them?

What do you think?

I wasn't always an affluent trophy wife and top supermodel. I was a lot less before...much, much less. But women like me, we do what we have to to get to the top, we fight to survive, and in the end? In the end we succeed...sometimes because when we start out, we suck seed.

No, I wasn't a prostitute. I was a lot of low things...but nowhere near that desperate. Besides, I'm too good to ever go that low.

The truth of the matter is, I slept around to get where I was.

When I was a teenager, my stepfather tried to rape me. He tried to make me succumb to his desires so he could get off because he was a man and that was his right. What he didn't realize was that it was my right to say no, and say no I did. In fact, you might even say that I gave the old bastard exactly what he "knee"ded.

I left home that same night, but as I moved away to start a new life of my own, I realized I had learned something. What is this something that I had learned? Simply put, this: Men want one thing, and one thing only. Sex. Any form of sex as long as - usually - it's with a woman. This lesson I used to my advantage.

I started off as a small time model...you know, commercials and the like. But then? Then I moved on to bigger and better things. I had to. Let's face it. Me? I wasn't made to be some silly little girl working behind a make-up counter or something. I'm bigger than that. I'm better than that. And so things went on.

Until I met Carlos Solis. Within moments of ours meeting, I had him wrapped around my pinkie finger and quivering to let him marry me. He was strong, handsome and...what's the word? Rich. He had money, and there's nothing a woman loves more than, well, the jewelry that comes from having money. Besides...the whole modelling career was getting boring after awhile. In any case, working with veritable monsters like Naomi Campbell was starting to take a beating on me personally. I almost developed a quarter of a wrinkle just walking the same ramp as her. Scary, scary woman. Beautiful, yes. But horrifically scary. She bites, you know, much worse than she barks. And wow, does she bark.

Life with Carlos was good. Luxurious. I loved it. But he got boring after awhile, as most men tend to become. Then John Rowland - our gardener came along...and within days, I had him wrapped around my pinkie finger while my legs were wrapped around his waist.

The moral of the story? Well, it's this: I can manipulate any situation, any person, to suit my advantage...and this is one thing that no one should ever know about me. Though I play the part well, I am not a damsel in distress. And if things go my way? I never will be.

Muse: Gabrielle Solis

Fandom: Desperate Housewives

Words: 648