RUBY GALE FONTAINE

Caucasian Female

1. What is your physical description?

You may call me Ruby Gale Fontaine. Don't let the Botox fool you, dear. I may look like a 37-year-old blonde bombshell but would you believe it if I told you I was 59? Ha, I know, that's what all men say when I tell them my age. Oh? Yeah, I'm not shy to tell my age. It just means I'm seasoned.

2. What is your current occupation, and how did you acquire the skills needed for it?

If you asked the washed-up jezebels down the street you might hear the phrase "Trophy Wife" which I guess is true but the difference between me and those girls, I don't hide my actions. It's a dog eat dog world out there, or in this case a bitch eat bitch world. If you aren't prepped and ready to throw everyone under the bus you might as well get under it yourself. I had to fight to get to out of that trailer park, so in a sense you might say I'm a professional harlot, some might even tell you con artist. Either way, I'm good at what I do, or anything I decide to do. Currently that is being the owner of Ruby Gale INC. I sell the finest of make-up sourced from the richest of ingredients. My clientele ranges from Hollywood starlets to the type of women who appear on the cover of Forbes.

3. Outside of work, what hobby, interest, or sport occupies most of your time, and why do you find it interesting?

When I'm not tending to my make-up line my husband, Dr. Fontaine, and I love to host lavish parties. How else am I going to let others relish in my spoils?

4. What motivates you to get out of bed and keep going each day?

Lulu, my bichon frise. Ha! You thought it would be money and power? Sweetie, when you have everything you slowly realize you must look for something else meaningful in life. My princess Lulu is my everything.

5. What is your greatest fear, and how do you react when you face it?

Someone finding out about my pathetic past. Luckily, I have only had to face this fear once. Some lowlife beauty blogger thought she could get a claim to fame by tearing me down. She wasn't clever enough to hide her own dirt before trying to dig up mine.

6. When people talk about you behind your back, and they do, what are they saying?

"Gold digger... trophy wife... plastic Barbie..." actually, I quite enjoy that last insult. It takes a certain type of woman to not be intimated by me in a room. So, I understand why women talk about me. I am a reflection of what they truly want to be. Jealousy is a nasty emotion. My mascara is too expensive to cry over it all anyways.

7. Everyone indulges in something from cheating on a diet to something dangerous; what is your guilty pleasure or vice?

There is no personal chef in the world that can replace the temptations of McDonalds. Late at night I sneak out to indulge in as many cheeseburgers as my 115 lb. body can stand.

8. What is in your luggage that you would be embarrassed or in trouble if someone else found?

A photo of myself from high school. I keep it with me as a reminder of where I started. If I am tempted to eat more than 1,000 calories a day, or I don't want to get out of bed for a board meeting, I look at that photo. Seeing 16-year-old Ruby Gale Bucket (pronounced boo-chey) staring back at me motivates me to never return to my old life.

9. Why are you married if you aren’t in love?

To be frank, money. Dr. Fontaine is a vessel. It's as a simple as that. I thought maybe one day I might learn to love him but after 37 years it still hasn't happened so don't hold your breath. Oh, but don't pity him, the feeling is mutual. He needed a young buxom blonde to tote around while promoting his first plastic surgery facility and I was starving for money and stature. Now that we both have achieved the power we wanted we happily enjoy our separate lives "together".

10. Before he left home, your father beat your mother. Why didn’t he ever beat you or your sister?

Because she was weak. Oh, please. Save me the tears. My sister and I learned how to avoid him like the plague and when to stand up to him. As a little girl I thought she took the beatings for our sake. Through the years I realized that she had given up. Given up on herself and everything she cared about. He let a man break her. I grew to hate her for it. When I ran away from our penniless lives to Manhattan I vowed to never be a powerless victim like her.