PRETTY

Nobody's Barbie Bitch

(a memoir)

PRETTY is a no-holds-barred, laugh-and-cry-out-loud, rollercoaster of a memoir that unpacks what it really means to be pretty in a world that’s constantly defining you before you even open your mouth.At its core, PRETTY is about the double-edged sword of beauty—the advantages it gave Hilary, but also the trauma and struggles it catalyzed. Sometimes, being pretty opened doors. Other times, it made her a target. From childhood to adulthood, in business, friendship, and family, being a woman—and being pretty—shaped nearly every chapter of her life, for better or worse.At first, it’s a coming-of-age tale, but then it shape-shifts—first into launching internet startups, then into the surreal world of modeling in Asia. New York follows, with its whirlwind of dating A-listers (yes, Ryan Gosling, Gerard Butler, Jim Carrey, and more), navigating far-too-intimate moments with Richard Branson, dodging powerful frienemies, and learning the hard way that being too nice—and too pretty—can come at a cost. But marriage and a transatlantic move shift the scene again, this time to France and Monaco—where life looks like a postcard, but is often hilariously off-script.Yet beneath the headline moments, PRETTY is also a tender book about what doesn’t make the highlight reel: enduring sexual assault, fighting to be taken seriously as a woman and a boss, surviving predators in the New York dating scene, and battling years of cancer and medical gaslighting—all while trying to be seen as something more than just pretty.

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The Memoir

I’m currently taking bids from publishers for my memoir, PRETTY: Nobody's Barbie Bitch (a memoir), which is 182,000 words.PRETTY is Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret meets Sex and the City—with a side of Eat, Pray, Love—an epic, laugh-and-cry-out-loud memoir that mixes razor-sharp humor, unflinching honesty, heart and hard-won wisdom. More than the escapades and close calls, PRETTY is a fearless, funny, and deeply personal exploration of what it really means to exist in a world that still measures women by their appearance.PRETTY, is a raw, hilarious, and unfiltered tell-all that peels back the curtain on fame, power, and the unexpected realities behind the glossy headlines.Due to the sensitive and intimate nature of my firsthand accounts with Hollywood’s biggest stars and business icons, the full memoir—including chapters detailing my intimate relationships with Richard Branson, Gerard Butler, Ryan Gosling, Jim Carrey, and more—will be provided upon request.📩 To access the manuscript, email me for the password, then read it here:

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Chapters

Prologue
IntroductionHilary 1.0: The Accidental Beginning
Welcome to the Circus
Lessons in the Wild
The Cool Girls in the Middle of Nowhere
Private Parts
Hilary 2.0: The Boss, The Model, The Virgin
Entrepreneuring
Pretty, Poised, & Petrified
Teen Brides and Typhoons in Taipei
Business, Blue Balls, and Bad Friends
Losing My Virginity (Not Actually on Purpose)
Of French Feasts and Freakouts
Misadventures in Tokyo
Hilary 3.0: Red Carpets and Regrets
The Underbelly of Modeling
Big City Girl
Behind the Curtain of Stardom
My Accidental Engagement
Condos, Crushes, and Coppolas
Hilary 4.0: Stars, Scandals, and the City
How to Win Friends and Dodge Creeps
Surviving Sundance—and Josh Lucas
Misadventures at the Cannes Film Festival
The Rock Star Life
Getting Love Bombed by Stiffler

Rock Gods, Hollywood Royals, and Me
Getting High with Paris Hilton
Richard Branson and the Price of Being Pretty
Bullies, Betrayal, and Business
Ryan Gosling and My Education on 'Smushing'
Two Gigolos and a Catfish
Jim Carrey and Being 'At One With Everything'
Matchmakers, Men, and Moving
Hilary 5.0: Soulmates, Survival, and Second Chances
That Fateful Holiday Party
Romance and Random Celebrities
Single to Married in a New York Minute
Two Weddings and a Fight
Debbie Downer Does Southampton
Malibu Ink
What's Wrong With Me?
Rolling with Rashes and Relatives
A Shadow in the Jungle
Mystery Solved
Beauty and the Butcher
Big Decisions
Hilary 6.0: Betrayals and Billionaires
Culture Shock
Technically Homeless
La Vie en Rose
The Reckoning
Betrayal and a New Beginning (Again)
Mormons on the Riviera
Sun, Sea, and StatusEpilogue
Afterword

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Excerpt (Prologue)

The first time I saw a dick—yes, a real-life penis—was with my grade school girlfriend during our walk home from the school bus when we were eight years old. We were in the middle of discussing the latest playground drama when an old man (everyone older than a teenager seemed ‘old’ to me back then) suddenly appeared in front of us, like some twisted magician. He looked at me—for a second, I wondered if I knew him—and said, “You’re pretty,” like it was some dirty secret.Then, before I could register his creepy compliment, he flung open his coat, and there it was—just skin, a gross, noodly-like appendage dangling there. I remember thinking he looked old, yet oddly smooth and hairless, like he’d been dipped in wax, or like his face had aged but his body had somehow Benjamin-Buttoned and remained like a large version of a child.Even as kids, we knew something was off, so we hightailed it out of there and told our parents, who promptly called the police. Of course, by the time they arrived, the guy had vanished. And while I’d love to say that was the last time someone decided to share their penis with me uninvited, life, unfortunately, had other plans.The next brush with unwanted attention—though admittedly more innocent—happened on the playground during recess in 5th grade. Neal had been my ‘boyfriend’ for a whopping nine and a half days, which in grade school time felt like an eternity. Our romance was a whirlwind of nervous hand-holding and sitting next to each other on the jungle gym, usually in complete and awkward silence. We didn’t need words; we had deep, meaningful eye contact—by which I mean we occasionally glanced at each other and then quickly looked away.Then, one fateful day, Neal decided to up the ante. He asked me to kiss him on the lips. Now, this wasn’t just a casual request; this was practically a marriage proposal in the world of fifth graders. I mean, kissing? On the lips? This was a gateway to all sorts of scandalous activities, like sharing juice boxes and maybe even cooties. The gravity of the situation wasn’t lost on me, so I told him I’d need some time to think it over, as if I were deciding whether to sign a treaty with a neighboring kingdom.That evening, I turned to the oracle of all wisdom—my mom. She listened patiently as I explained Neal’s request, and after a moment of deep contemplation, she said, “Tell him no, and see if he still wants to be your boyfriend a few days later. If he does, then you can decide if you really want to kiss him.”

Armed with this sage advice, I returned to the playground the next day, heart pounding in my chest. Sure enough, Neal wasted no time in asking again, clearly expecting a different answer this time. But I mustered all the courage my ten-year-old self could find and said, “Not now.” It was less of a firm rejection and more of a tentative postponement, like when you tell yourself you’ll start a diet next Monday, and then maybe the Monday after that.As it turns out, my mom was right. Neal took my hesitation as a deal-breaker and promptly dumped me, moving on to a new conquest before the week was out. Word on the playground was that his friends had advised him not to waste his time on girls who wouldn’t “do stuff”.This was my first real lesson in the ways of boys, and if I’d known then that their basic approach wouldn’t evolve much over the years, I might have seriously reconsidered dating as a whole. But let’s be honest—despite everything, I was always a sucker for connection, friendship, and love, even back then.Looking back, it’s almost funny how these early interactions laid the groundwork for a lifetime of navigating male expectations. But hey, at least I learned early on that sometimes, saying “not now” is all it takes to weed out the ones who aren’t worth the trouble. Thanks, Neal, for that valuable life lesson—you did me a favor, even if you didn’t mean to.Naturally, I chronicled my heartbreak in my journal—because where else is a ten-year-old supposed to unload the soul-crushing agony of a brief romance that ended in unspeakable betrayal? Sprinkled between the timeline of doom were bursts of existential despair like, “Did he even like me in the first place? Did he even want a real connection?” and, of course, the classic feminist reawakening of, “Who needs boys anyway!?” No doodles or heart-shaped scribbles for me—just cold hard facts and a ten-year-old’s stab at philosophy.That first heartbreak set the tone for decades of romantic absurdity, featuring an increasingly colorful cast of characters. There was the male models, the boyfriend who moonlit as a gigolo, the setup who’d fabricated an entire persona to impress me, and, eventually, the celebrities who thought their famous faces could excuse absolutely everything. (Spoiler: they couldn’t.)But hey, we all have to start somewhere. For me, it started on a playground. And, trust me, it only got messier—and more surreal—from there.

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About Hilary

Hilary has lived a life most people wouldn’t believe—if she hadn’t kept the receipts. As a teenager she traveled the world as a model with Ford and Elite. When she was a teenager, she taught herself to code and launched two first-of-their-kind startups (the first-ever online magazine and the first online portfolio and casting site) and accidentally became an OG 'creator'. In her 20's, she landed in the fast lanes of Los Angeles and New York City, where she found herself dating some of Hollywood’s biggest names. In NYC she opened a gallery in SoHo, started a new business (with the support of Sting), and registered several patents. Then she met the love of her life, got married, and got cancer, all in less than a year. After that, they moved to France, which was its own adventure. She now lives in Monaco (and spends a lot of time in London) with her husband and their traveling rescue cat (who has lived in four countries and has her own incredible story!)

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