Being Kendra_ Cribs, Cocktails, and Getting My Sexy Back - Kendra Wilkinson [79]
It wasn’t always easy either. I had done drugs and been a maniac, but she always let me back in the house. She gave me tough love, kicking me out, trying to discipline me, and just being a mom. But she always let me know that our house was my home. And even though the moment I turned eighteen I was out of that house and started stripping, that was my choice, because I needed money. But I always knew that she would be there for me.
Since then we’ve always had a solid relationship. We would talk a lot and I would invite her out to events or to Philadelphia for football games; I always tried to include her. And when I got somewhere in life, I tried to make sure she felt secure and enjoyed some of the new freedoms and fun we could have. I’m not a saint—if you’ve read this far, you know that by now!—but I tried to do right by her, like any kid would want to do for their mom.
When I was living with Hef at the mansion, I introduced her to Dr. Frank Ryan, plastic surgeon to the stars (he recently passed away in a car accident). He showed her what they could do with her face because I wanted her to feel better as she got older. I wanted her to feel more comfortable in her skin. I thought it might help her find confidence and leave the house more and find a man or go see friends. I was worried for her because she never left the house to do things with friends, never really had friends, and basically just worked, came home, popped some dinner in the microwave, and watched TV. That had become the extent of her life, and it was hard for me to see my mom live a life that I considered to be so sheltered. She’d always say, “That’s me, there’s nothing wrong with doing that.” So she came out to the mansion and I took her to get the plastic surgery done—she had a nose job, had a face-lift, had her lips done, got rid of her wrinkles, and had a little bit of laser surgery. She stayed with us while she recovered, and I tried to take good care of her. When she was healed, she had a whole makeover, and she revealed herself during a Midsummer Night’s Dream party at the mansion. She looked amazing, like a new woman, and I could tell she was having so much fun in her skin. Afterward, she started to dress differently, and she acted ten years younger. She loved the mansion, she loved me, and that made me happy.
Things change though.
When Hank started moving around a lot for football, keeping in touch with friends and family became a casualty, not just with my mom, but with my brother and grandma and all of my friends. When your whole world is in California but you live in Philadelphia, Minnesota, and Indianapolis, you tend not to see the people in your life very much. That’s the way it goes. Throw a newborn baby in there, and even phone calls and e-mails became secondary concerns. It’s got nothing to do with my heart; in my heart I love my friends and family. But that first year, man, I just had to focus on the baby. I was struggling to stay afloat. So Mom and I didn’t see each other a lot because of all the moving. Sometimes in life you’re apart physically, but that should never affect the way you feel about someone in your heart. But my success in Hollywood and ultimately my preoccupation with being a mother took its toll on my relationship with my own mother.
Being a celebrity has its pros and its cons. My life went somewhere I never expected it to go. I’m just doing what I’m supposed to do to live and pay my mortgage and take care of my husband and son. If I’m not a celebrity I have nothing. I never went to college, I don’t have another job opportunity, and frankly, if I wasn’t doing this I’d probably be stripping. So I’m doing what I need to do to get by. I don’t let it affect me and I don’t bring it up at the dinner table. My shit stinks just like everyone else’s;