I've been called a slapper, a freak and a bimbo. But there's more to me than that: I'm also obsessed with celebrity. This is my story.

I had the happiest childhood any girl could want. My dad left when I was three, but I never missed him because he had never been around much. My mum was amazing and I was thrilled when she met someone else and had another child.

By the time I was 13 years old I knew I was destined to be famous, and even though the first photographer to take glamour shots of me turned out to be a paedophile, I was determined not to let anything stop me from becoming a model and a pop star.

My first boyfriend was called Jeff. I made him wait a month before I let him have sex with me. I make everyone wait a month to prove I'm not easy. Except for the blokes I shag a bit sooner! Jeff had a small willy and I never really enjoyed the sex.

Modelling for the Sun sent my career stratospheric, and I decided to trade in Jeff for a boyfriend more fitting to my celebrity status, and soon I ended up with first a Gladiator and then Dane Bowers, a pop star from a band no one remembers any more. I hate the way both men have betrayed me by selling their stories. I would never do that. Both men had rather nondescript willies and they made me partake in unusual sexual practices. I should have left both earlier, but I'm a very loyal woman.

I want this next bit on the record. I've had three operations to enhance my breasts. They look lovely and I've never regretted it, though my back's started to play up a bit.

I nearly went out with Teddy Sheringham, but he went cold when the papers found out about us. I did meet David Beckham, though. He held my hand while Posh wasn't looking. She's really rough without make-up.

My career was going from strength to strength, and I started dating Dwight Yorke. He was a real pig. He didn't fancy me when my legs were heavily bruised from liposuction. Then I found out I was pregnant and he didn't want to know. So I went off to do a Playboy shoot. All the bunnies shave their bush, just like me, and they all said how natural my breasts look. Then when I was six months pregnant I started shagging Gareth Gates as it looked good on my CV. He had a small willy.

I was gutted when I discovered Harvey was blind, but felt sure he would have wanted me to go to LA to publicise my Playboy shoot. So I did. I was very distressed when paparazzi took photos of me, wearing a bikini, leading Harvey on a horse.

I'm a Celebrity was amazing. Peter Andre is the man of my dreams. He could launch my pop career. I'm tired of being "the girl who gets her tits out". Maybe it's time to drop my knickers.

The digested read ... digested

The only time you'll feel sorry for Dwight Yorke