Skinny is the typical word we’d use to describe a model, especially in the 1990s. In contrast to the Kardashian-era body type that is voluptuous and curvy, this trend seems to be on its way back “in.” But that fact doesn’t stop these plus-sized models from flaunting their curvy bodies.
Instead, they’re getting creative by recreating the thinner celebrities’ looks. Just like Stella Williams says, “We have to aspire to getting more body representation in different areas.”
1. Katie Sutrino recreates Hailey Beiber’s look.
2. Gabriella Athena Halikas recreates Kim Kardashian’s look.
3. Katie Sutrino recreates Kaia Gerber’s look.
4. Paloma Elsesser recreates Aaliyah’s look.
5. Gabriella Athena Halikas recreates Julia Fox’s look.
6. Katie Sutrino recreates Olivia Rodrigo’s look.
7. Diana Sirokai recreates Kim Kardashian’s look.
8. Katie Sutrino recreates Miley Cyrus’s look.
9. Stella Williams recreates Hunter Schafer’s look.
\10. Katie Sutrino recreates Jules Hough’s look.
\11. Gabriella Athena Halikas recreates Julia Fox’s look.
Preview photo credit hunterschafer / Instagram, thestellawilliams / Instagram
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
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