Smize

Through a ceiling to floor mirror that covers an entire wall, I “smize” at my stunning reflection, having easily mastered the come-fuck-me look that's going to sell me millions of CDs.

I remember once turning up and it was for a catalogue. Often catalogues were fine – you'd put on some lingerie and a couple of baby-dolls and that would be that. But sometimes they'd have a sex-toy section and the last thing I wanted was to be smizing sexily while holding a pair of fur-lined handcuffs.

Whenever I tried to “smize,” model-style, people asked if I'd been possessed by an ancient and evil spirit.