Dear Diary #24

Pamela, a love letter

Dec 04, 2025

Dear Diary is a monthly love letter to the mess and magic of relationships — with others, and with myself. I don’t have answers, just lots of questions, but I believe in connecting through words. That’s why I keep writing.

Grab a warm cup of glögi, take five, and enjoy the read. 🗝

Today I wrote a letter to Pamela Anderson.

Dear Pamela Anderson,

Living in Helsinki, I’ve learned that small things become newsworthy—like discovering you have Finnish roots. Everyone here already knew, of course, but as a foreigner I’m always slightly out of sync — orbiting close, but never quite landing.

Seeing you in Vogue Scandinavia instantly brought me back to that scene of you reading your diaries in the Netflix documentary: so gentle, so candid.

I’m obsessed with journaling, and recently I’ve decided to encourage more women to journal, too. When we let the pen lead, it goes straight to where it hurts and releases our feelings onto the paper. I felt so validated when I saw you have a lifetime of diaries and a real love for words. I, too, feel either wildly creative or wildly dramatic.

Do you think writing raw and honestly, as you did, protected your soul and kept your spark? I got the impression that it helped you to never give up on love, life, or falling in love again.

Thank you for being so vulnerable.

Okay, but if I am honest, I didn’t know who you really were before watching Pamela, a Love Story. Your name, of course, recalled a blonde sex symbol from the ’90s. A Playboy kind of girl who, omg, probably had to endure so much because the world was something else for women back then.

I was a child when Baywatch was on TV. I’m not sure when exactly they aired it in Brazil, but I do remember the Brazilian title: “S.O.S. Malibu.”

I always thought women like you were a different species. For me, it felt safer to be weird, nerdy, and to shine by expressing myself creatively while never daring to be pretty. I radically avoided and even despised the male gaze. I could never understand why a woman would risk herself in those spaces. And yet, it always intrigued me. Are they crazy or smarter than everybody else?

Later, I realized there’s no safe playground as a woman, and in the documentary, I could actually relate to so many things: growing up in a small town, an alcoholic father. And about the washing-the-penis-in-the-sink suspicion — I think you’re right! I never suspected my ex, either, but he cheated badly on me.

And the story in the house with your friend and the other guy — I’m deeply sorry that happened to you. I have a similar story, just with a different outcome.

I went to this big house with a new friend, older than me, I think she was 17. She went upstairs with one guy. I stayed in the living room with another. I was twelve; he was maybe eighteen. I said no, absolutely not, and wanted to leave — I don’t even remember if I actually did. He got pissed, but nothing happened. The next day, his girlfriend wanted to come after me and called me every name possible. I hid and learned two lessons: never put myself in those situations again, and shrink myself into discretion because, apparently, I was still ‘attractive.’

It meant I’d displease my mom. She was a hairdresser and was always telling me to blow-dry my hair, look pretty, and suck in my stomach. But being cute was a dangerous because it blurred my body’s boundaries and made people (men, mostly) assume they had free access.

I wonder if you used your sexy appearance to shield your delicate soul.

I love that you no longer use makeup and let your face age naturally. You look so real and alive. I think when we are full of ourselves, doing what we’re supposed to be doing instead of fighting and grinding, life flows more easily and far more abundantly. I’d love to hear your thoughts on that.

I’m 37, and one side of me says: You’re a writer, not an actress — no need to express your feelings on your forehead; save money for Botox. The other side says: But they’re my story.

I love stories, Pam.

✺ Wednesday, 10 at 18:00 — Our classic Reading Club (Women Who Run with the Wolves)! If you’d like to join, just read the last three chapters — they’re independent, so you’ll be fine.