Barbara: Sonya, I was kneaded while on vacation in Austria. When the masseur was walking around on my thighs, he asked me if he should say anything.
Sonya: And should he?
Barbara: Of course. I was prepared for compliments. But then he only said one word: “dough.”
Barbara: Well, “dough.” He said: “You should eat less dough.” He asked me if I would eat bread, pasta, and potatoes. And tropical fruit, that would be seen on my hips.
Sonya: Batter … This is very funny.
Barbara: But not your problem.
Sonya: How do you know the? You haven’t seen my dough yet.
Barbara: Then, take it out, your dough!
Sonya: No. Then it would come out, which is wrong with me.
Sonya: I already had 14 incredible stretch marks with 14, because I grew 20 centimeters in one year, mine is at the same time Hips and breasts exploded. The skin didn’t come along.
Barbara: Where are they, the stripes?
Sonya: From the middle of the thigh to the upper hip bone. So I’ve been used to having a ripped butt for over 30 years. But what the heck, I don’t see it.
Barbara: Sometimes I put the cell phone on the sideboard with the camera running and take a closer look at it …
Sonya: Really? Not me. It happened to me a few years ago by mistake. Something fell in a hotel bathroom, and when I picked it up, I saw through my legs in the mirrored door what my back looked like at the moment.
Sonya: Let’s say times like this: I started ballet again afterward and hired a personal trainer. And it was clear to me that string thong is gone forever. But I don’t think the problematic relationship to my back is exclusive. Apart from Kim Kardashian, no woman likes her bottom.
Rescuer in need: compression stockings
Barbara: And unfortunately, there are no underpants that could help in any way.
Sonya: Maybe not, but … Okay: a bag of tricks. I always wear compression stockings, these blatant from the medical supply store. The Brazilian samba dancers do that too.
Barbara: The good medical compression stockings.
Sonya: Exactly. And then the second step: a pair of tights in a lovely color. And then, as a third layer, the dancer’s fishnet stockings. The hammer, they jerk everything right. Nobody will say a bad word about your bottom.
Barbara: Great. Do you think Beyoncé also wears compression stockings?
Sonya: Well. That would not surprise me. And if so, then in the evening, her legs also have prints like a Hungarian salami on the net.
Barbara: But that’s precisely the point: what if I don’t wear this press-pressure stuff?
Sonya: Well, then you’re alone and hopefully at peace with yourself. Barbara: And you know what: that’s me. If I look in the mirror and don’t like what I see, I don’t quarrel with myself. I say: what a stupid mirror.
Sonya: Great attitude. Does that also work in other areas?
Barbara: Sure. If a viewer did not like my TV programs, I was firmly convinced for years that it was the viewer’s fault. And I always keep an eye on what was and is good. Do you know that?
Sonya: Different, but not entirely: there is always a bigger problem than my butt that concerns me right now. That’s why I can only take these outward appearances seriously.
It’s a good thing that I’m such a balanced and happy person …
Barbara: I know what you mean. Yet, there are fully mirrored hotel rooms, and when I walk through the naked, I think: it’s good that I’m such a balanced and happy person. Otherwise, I would immediately withdraw from the public eye. I can understand anyone desperate about his body.
Sonya: I don’t. Honestly: I’m just a professional. Nothing that I do for my looks, including my stockings, has anything to do with my private life. I don’t even put on my make-up.
Barbara: Neither do I! But I noticed that anyway: we have a lot in common. We’re almost the same age and both modeled …
Sonya: … started watching television at the same time …
Barbara: … used our big mouth profitably and didn’t take us either very seriously …
Sonya: … and not to forget: At about the same time, we started building something much more important than just the job.
Barbara: That’s right! When I was pregnant for the first time, we met at the Bremen six-day race.
Sonya: What were we doing?
Barbara: Well, we didn’t ride a bike anyway. But I still remember that you were utterly fascinated with me about being pregnant all the time – and you didn’t know that you were already pregnant yourself there.
Sonya: That’s right. But what makes us different: You got a girl. I don’t.
Barbara: Is that a flaw for you?
Sonya: Oooooh, I would have loved to have one. Maybe it’s because I have such a close relationship with my mother. I would have liked that too. I love all my boys, but that’s just a male household. It’s always about higher, faster, further. Sometimes I’m missing a different color. To compensate, we now have a dog girl, after all. She understands me.
Barbara: Do you notice physical quirks in others?
Sonya: What, for example?
Barbara: Big bellies, sagging breasts, circular hair loss …
Sonya: Nah. And that is also related to the modeling that you mentioned earlier.
Barbara: How so?
Sonya: In this job, you are surrounded by beautiful people from morning to night. This means that no distinctive external features can be used as a guide; physical perfection is nothing special. You have to stick to other parameters to recognize people. This immunizes you against using outwardness as a criterion for judgment. So: No, I don’t see physical blemishes in others because they don’t interest me.
Barbara: I understand well. I have never been with a man because he would have been particularly beautiful. I was looking for special features, abysses, and, yes, maybe even flaws when someone has te s program slightly overlapping … Sexy!
Sonya: I find self-irony hot in men, especially when it comes to your masculinity. And if a woman can accept at eye level. But if someone insists on a classic division of roles, I find that a flaw.
Barbara: Exactly! I could be with someone who lacks a leg, rather than someone who folds the napkins exactly on edge at home or who sorts their pencils by a length in the office.
Sonya: We are also approaching that what I mean by a quirk. Something that happens in the head, not on the body.
Barbara: Do you have something like that?
Sonya: Uh … yes. I’m a notorious eater.
Barbara: How now?
Sonya: Well, in the restaurant, for example. I can’t stand if anything of the food is left behind, not only with me – but also with others. Then, like the sushi circle, I stack everyone’s plates around the table and eat everything, no matter what is on it.
Barbara: You are a vegetarian.
Sonya: Doesn’t matter. The leftovers also have to go away.
Barbara: Okay … Anything else?
Sonya: Yes, I have a water-saving jacket. When I have a visitor, and he pees …
Barbara: … you first hear how long the flush runs and whether he pressed the economy button.
Sonya: Exactly. And if not, there is a serious conversation. Do you have something like that?
Barbara: Sure. I have a garbage separation taste. It goes so far that I take packaging apart and deconstruct it into its valuable materials. Remove the transparent window from the pasta packs and so on.
Sonya: You can. If it was.
Barbara: It wasn’t. The most astonishing thing for me is getting things done. I clean up like crazy and throw everything stupid around very quickly.
The bailiff came to me.
Sonya: Didn’t you say that you could never be with a law enforcement fanatic …  Barbara: This is something completely different.
Sonya: I save too much rather than too little. I would also be afraid to throw away something that could still be used.
Barbara: Rightly so. The bailiff came to me once.
Sonya: Yikes! Why is that?
Barbara: I had disposed of fines and warnings for incorrect parking with the waste paper. Someone had to come and collect the coal personally … Oh, and one more thing: I wouldn’t say I like flowers with greens around it.
Sonya: What kind of greens?
Barbara: grasses and ferns. I want to blow a bouquet like that to the giver. You’re calmer there, aren’t you?
Sonya: Yes. I am a big fan of living and let live.
Barbara: I find that all the more remarkable because you have already experienced terrible things.
Sonya: You mean the matter with my brother.
Barbara: Who died of sudden child death when you were six. And the thing with your father.
Sonya: Who killed himself when I was eleven.
Barbara: A lot of people would break on it. But you make a resilient impression.
Sonya: That’s not wrong, either. I think that’s a decision you can make: should it kill me? Or is it supposed to teach me something about life and thereby make me stronger?
Barbara: And you decided to answer B.
Sonya: That shouldn’t sound impious now, but sometimes I think me: great that it happened to me. As a child, I developed a strong will to survive. And this is how my father overturned all role stereotypes.
Barbara: How did that happen?
Sonya: In the mid-1980s, the image of the man as a protector, a breadwinner, and a rock was still considered in the surf. If your father kills himself while you are at the ballet, this picture is destroyed. That paved the way for me: I would never rely on a man. I would always be independent, always make my own money. I was human without subjugating me to a man.
Barbara: You never married, even though you have been with the same man for 23 years.
Sonya: It has to do with that. I am strong. I am fundamentally optimistic. But that results from a phase of deep sadness and thoughtfulness. Not with you, right?
Barbara: No, I haven’t seen anything like it. But I also have this unconditional will for independence. It doesn’t get any less the older I get.
Sonya: Does aging bother you?
Barbara: Not a bit. You?
Sonya: Nah. I also find the question of age increasingly ridiculous. I was already suggested at the age of 25 that at 30, I would no longer have to look for TV.
Barbara: So nonsense. People are getting older with us. The demographic development is on our side.
Sonya: True, our year of birth is not a flaw. I now work for the Hessischer Rundfunk. Then someone said recently: “Ms. Kraus, actually you are still too wild and crazy for us.”
Sonya: “But at least you are now our age. ” I laughed a lot.
Born in 1973 in Frankfurt am Main, Sonya Kraus modeled before and after graduating from high school before switching to television in 1998 as a mute letter-turner. From 2000 she was also allowed to talk a lot and quickly in “talk talk talk.” Since then, she has been moderating various formats on various channels, had a column in “Emma,” and wrote five non-fiction books. Oh yes, she also acted. She deliberately lives unmarried with her boyfriend, mother, two sons, and a bitch in her hometown.
Stephan Bartels recorded the conversation between the two and almost forgot that he sometimes got angry with his stomach.