Who is valeriya lukyanova

To fit the last one, I build my muscles in the gym every day. But people persistently compare me with Barbie, even though I'm too muscle-bound for a doll," Valeria said.

Those are the heroes who are pretty much cooler than scrawny and waif-like Barbie," she added with a smile. Valeria has found a great supporter in her masculine partner: "He tells me that I have appearance of an elven princess or a mystical fairy, and he considers my image beyond time and epoch. The only thing I can say is that I'm not yet 25 years old. And there are no magical diets behind such a thin waist — Valeria considers all of them ineffective.

Besides following the "we are what we eat" rule, Valeria also pays close attention at her cosmetic products: "I have been making all my skin and hair care cosmetics myself for a long time, and I totally enjoy it!

Now that I've gained proper experience, I decided to share my secret beauty recipes with others. She is not just a doll but a woman with a number of talents as a model, a writer, a poet, a singer, a DJ, a lecturer and even a spiritual leader.

My spiritual name is Amatue — it is the name of my Higher Self. It is a matter of course to have such names in esoteric circles," she continued. My ideology is to help man comprehend himself as a substance of Spirit on his way to Beyond Being, but not just a pile of meat and bones," Valeria claimed. Valeria Lukyanova Photo: Valeria Lukyanova She is a childfree movement follower: "I have chosen a childfree life, because my kids are my disciples.

Her mouth is frozen in a vacant half-smile; the teeth are small and almost translucent. She's holding a handbag shaped like a lantern. A one-eyed smiling-skull pin perches on her sky blue top, pushed to the side by the veritable shelf of silicone around which her whole body seems arranged.

In the flesh—the little of it that she hasn't whittled away with what she says is exercise and diet—Valeria looks almost exactly like Barbie. There might be some Loretta Lux-style postproduction to her photos, sure, but it's not crucial. This is live. This is happening. Her mouth, like in a cheap cartoon, is the only part of her that moves. The eyes, the staring eyes, are the scariest.

Part of what I'm seeing is an optical effect brought about by makeup there is essentially an eye drawn around each eye , but even after I make the mental correction for it, Valeria's eyes remain chillingly large. The Internet rumor mill claims she has had her eyelids trimmed to achieve this look, which seems unlikely and sounds nightmarish. Evolution has taught us to think of big eyes as beautiful—it's a so-called neotenous feature, implying youth—but tweak that delicate scale just a little and you've got a wraith, or an insect.

A living Barbie is automatically an Uncanny Valley Girl. Her beauty, though I hesitate to use the term, is pitched at the exact precipice where the male gaze curdles in on itself. Her features are the features we men playfully ascribe to ideal women; it's how we draw them in manga and comics and video games.

Except we don't expect them to comply with this oppressive fantasy so fully. As a result, she almost throws our idea of a supervixen back in our face. For a while, I just look, which would normally be rude.

Here, though, the act of looking feels like an experiment conducted on me. Am I supposed to be attracted, to be repulsed, or to ponder the sexism of that dichotomy?

Compared with Valeria, Olga is just a human in a lot of makeup, no more or less augmented than any Miami Beach body, wearing some sort of purple Power Ranger outfit self-designed, she later explains. I instantly understand why Valeria insists on having her around.

She seems to be there for scale, to subtly underscore Valeria's ethereality. We order food, in a manner of speaking. Kamasutra being an Indian restaurant, there are the usual three chutneys on the table—mint, tamarind, and chile. Valeria gets a carrot juice, then proceeds to upend all three chutneys into it, swirl the result with her straw, and drink. This gag-inducing mix, she explains, is her dinner; she is on an all-liquid diet these days.

I don't quite know where to go from there, so I ask about her nails, which feature a complicated pointillist design of pink, lavender, and turquoise. It came to me in a dream. When seated across the table from a living Barbie and stuck for topics, by all means go for collegiate bullshit.

American, even. Valeria grows pensive, which in her case means rolling her eyes slightly upward without changing anything else about her face. Everyone wants a slim figure. Everyone gets breasts done.

Everyone fixes up their face if it's not ideal, you know? Everyone strives for the golden mean. It's global now. If I had a glass of multi-chutney carrot-juice mix before me, I'd do a bright orange spit take.

She goes and files it down a little, and it's all good. Ethnicities are mixing now, so there's degeneration, and it didn't used to be like that. Remember how many beautiful women there were in the s and s, without any surgery? And now, thanks to degeneration, we have this. I love the Nordic image myself. I realize that just like everyone reading about Human Barbie, I had had a simple narrative prepared in my head: A small-town girl grows up obsessed with dolls, etc.

Instead, I get a racist space alien. Valeria innocently daubs her face with powder. The future Barbie was born nowhere near Malibu. Valeria hails from Tiraspol, a gloomy city in Europe's poorest country, Moldova. Valeria remembers both her Siberian-born grandfather and her father as very strict and began to rebel at the usual age of Stage one involved dyeing her hair, which is naturally a low-key shade of brown.

Valeria went for the goth look first—about the farthest you could get from Barbie. She wore all-black clothes to accentuate her very white skin. The only religion that is close to me is Buddhism, but Buddha is just the guardian of the Earth, not god. I do not believe that God exists, so I do not worship or serve anyone, only truth.

Only to the source from which we all belong. It's an impersonal energy that doesn't have a particular personality, but is made more of a collective awareness of enlightened beings. Yes, I have had plastic surgery on my bust. I think that if you have shortcomings, then it's okay to correct them, which is what I did.

You've recently changed your appearance to be more muscular. Can you talk about that? This actually ties into my spiritual work. Since I gained more memories of my cosmic past, I have been inspired to transform my outer image. My muse is Medusa Gorgona from Greek mythology.

She was the queen of the Amazons back in Atlantis, and I want my ideal body to be worthy of her, so it is up to me to become her myself. I did it, but I'm not going to stop there—I want a more muscular, defined body than what I have now. I practice every day with free weights in the gym. I don't really do aerobics, but I prefer working with dumbells. For me, beauty is the harmony of features and lines. Subtlety and sophisitication.

Harmony of the external and internal. It is sincerity, kindness, power, and generosity that comes from within. All of these qualities are inspiring, and it changes your exterior. It's a charisma.

A handsome man is beautiful in everything—in deeds, thoughts, and body. The most important thing is harmony. I like when there is nothing unnecessary on the body, and I percieve this as good willpower, and loving yourself. My hair is a lot of work. It isn't easy to grow long, thick, and shiny hair, but I developed a system for it, and I'm very pleased. Many people do not even believe that this is my real hair!