When we were about 5 or 6 years old, our moms were buying a colorful glossy magazine called "Natali". There were photos of beautiful barbie-like women in bright and open clothes, and we loved cutting them out, collecting and exchanging and sometimes bragging - look, I have more! I have this rare one!
When we brought our mom's magazines to daycare, the nurses enjoyed reading them as we were having those boring daytime naps.
Since we were also able to read, we did.
Articles about fashion were more or less clear, just some funny names of (supposedly) clothes made us guess what it might be. Those about makeup were a bit confusing, yet not hard to understand - they featured things we often sneaked out of moms' makeup drawers. There were weird articles with pictures of nearly naked people, and eventually one of the girls told that the "sex" word means that a man's pee thing is inserted into a woman's. Yuck! - we thought, and a few of us still do.
We tried to copy the makeup of those models, wanted to become models too, and sticked toilet paper and cotton under our shirts to look like our idols from the glossy pages.
Bue there was one thing we could barely understand. Letters of readers with weird stories about some strange relationships with other people around them, and so-called "novels" with nearly the same stories about weird, meaningless, yet fun to read stuff.
There were characters with various names, but often referred to as "moonlighters", "sluts" or a seemingly more clear word "lover" - obviously, it's the one who is loved. We didn't really get who they were, but knew they're bad and somehow hurt the good ones - who love their boyfriends and husbands. The bad ones were beautiful and bright, but we hated them - because they did nasty things to those nice ones, represented by pics of friendly-looking models from the magazine in our imagination.
We were often imagining ourselves as girls from those mysterious stories. Or our Barbies were as them, and the bad ones always ended up beaten and sent out of the dollhouse.
I never wanted to be of those bad ones. They were good-looking, yet negative characters. I could never imagine I'd become a bad barbie.
Nevertheless - I am. I am of those who hurts good girls and gets pleasure out of that. I am the possible reason of someone's sleeplessness, tears and anxiety. I am the one to be expelled from the dollhouse if someone gets to know.
The situation is a little bit safer because no one would ever say someone can cheat with an asexual virgin. (Last statement is true.)