MAIN CLAIM: Pneumatic- chested gerontophile with Marilyn fixation. In a classic case of American white trash metamorphosis from diner to Hollywood D-list, Anna Nicole Smith has become thoroughly famous-for-being- famous in garish cartoon style. Now the waitress-turned-stripper-turned- model-turned-actress is hitting the limelight again (sort of) - having divested herself of six stone - with her first photo shoot in two years, performed exclusively for our very own custodian of quality the Sun. "Hi baby, I'm back!" trills Anna Nicole, a sloppily-invented moniker if ever we heard one.

APPEARANCE: La Cicciolina via a Trenton, New Jersey beauty parlour with a quick trip to McDonalds en route. Jayne Mansfield meets Dolly Parton meets Tamara Beckwith meets Melanie Griffiths meets Tori Spelling. You get the picture. Blonde. That sort of thing.

RAGS TO RICHES: Born Vikki Lynn Hogan in Mexia, Texas, our heroine married some local called Billy Smith at 16, escaped with son Daniel, now 12, and became a stripper in Houston. "I've been ripped off, abused and treated real bad," she says. While stripping, she met wheelchair-bound tycoon J. Howard Marshall, who promptly spent pounds 2,000 on breast implants, and showered her in jewels. "I'm going to be a huge star. Hollywood's a big game and I know I can play it," declared Anna, now 30.

AGE CONCERN: Husband J. Howard, who died three years ago aged 90, displayed the tufty-haired, glazed blue- eyed, geriatric-home-by-the-sea grin of skeletal old age. Photographed beside him, Anna wore a sweet and demure expression, pleasant young housewife dress and plenty of lipstick. "He is everything you could ever want in a man," she said.

RISE AND FALL: After Anna had become the Playboy Playmate of the Year who inspired Hugh Hefner to drivel on about Marilyn Monroe and the Guess? jeans girl, her beloved husband passed away, and she promptly hit the skids. Following a diet of pizza, anti-depressants and champagne, she was photographed weighing 16 stone at the '96 Oscars, wearing a split turquoise sack of a frock. "I was flying high... People were literally running away." She took a drug overdose, ended up on a life support machine and then in the Betty Ford Clinic.

FAME PROSPECTS: Future predictions: dark hair, further weight battles, a failed pop song, three more marriages and an autobiography called Meals on Wheels. A bungalow in the wrong LA zipcode and an exclusive for Hello! may be expected in 2020. Meanwhile, there's an inheritance court case to look forward to. All healthy fun.