I sort of tend to equate tattoos with prisoners, punks or people with a high level of self-confidence. I don’t necessarily have a covered-in-tattoos personality.

When someone shows you how little you mean to them and you keep coming back for more, before you know it you start to mean less to yourself.

I would have specific books [when I was 12 or 13] that had pages that I knew had sex on them that I would go and read.

I didn't drink in the essence of the classroom. I didn't take legible notes or dance all night. I thought I would marry my boyfriend and grow old and sick of him. I thought I would keep my friends, and we'd make different, new memories. None of that happened. Better things happened.

My fears came true: People called me fat and hideous, and I lived. And now I keep living.

Basically, anything a sexual predator might do to woo a small suburban girl, I was trying.

It's not brave to do something that doesn't scare you. Performing in sex scenes that I direct, exposing a flash of my weird puffy nipple, those things don't fall into my zone of terror.