It all began with Victoria’s Secret. The catalogues started flooding our mailbox when I was the impressionable age of nine, my two sisters in their teens.
“What is your secret, Victoria?” I wondered, “How can a person look like that?”
I didn’t yet know about Photoshop or plastic surgery, so I diligently studied each image, searching for the secret between thin scented pages. It was the 90s and the fashion was heinous, but it didn’t matter because women with fantasy bodies like that could sell anything.