Debbie Roth

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The mansion itself hadn’t been the prison, even though I’d thought it was. The prison was everywhere. The images on social media, of impossible-to-attain physical perfection. In the media. In movies. In the pages of every magazine. The women walking around L.A. with their surgically perfected bodies. I felt like I could not escape the relentless message that you are what you look like.
Only Say Good Things: Surviving Playboy and Finding Myself
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