Rebekka Armstrong

“We spent about three days out in the desert for my Playmate photo shoot. It was during the bloom in Palmdale.”

IF YOU HAD TOLD ME WHEN I WAS YOUNGER that I would one day say out loud that I have HIV, and that I would be okay and it would feel good to stop hiding it, I wouldn’t have believed you. But when I did speak up, a huge weight was lifted. It was the best thing I ever could have done for myself.

I was 22 and already a Playmate when I was diagnosed with HIV. When the clinic called to tell me, I remember crumpling to the floor. The energy just left my body; I was in complete shock. At the time, it was a death sentence. The doctors said I might have a year or two. For a while I was diligent about trying to be as healthy as possible, taking my medications. But the medicine itself had awful side effects. I developed severe anemia, neuropathy and pancreatitis. You start thinking, If I’m going to die soon, is this really how I want to live, not doing anything? To hell with it. I just want to have a good time—eat chili cheese fries, drink beer, snort crystal meth, smoke pot. Those were my coping mechanisms.

Eventually I hit bottom and tried to take my own life. I landed in the hospital for days, and during that time I got sober and started to talk about my feelings. I’d been hiding the truth from almost everyone for about five years. It was when I was in the hospital that I decided I wanted to go public about my diagnosis. Before that, I wanted to tell Playboy about my HIV status and everything else. I went in and just opened up: “I’ve been terrified to tell you about what’s really going on with me,” I said.

Then I did Hard Copy. I had no idea what to expect. They could’ve portrayed me negatively, but they didn’t. Years later, after I was diagnosed with AIDS, Playboy helped me do E! True Hollywood Story, and Hef did an interview for the show. He didn’t have to do that; he was so cool. It was empowering to know that he and Playboy had my back and supported me. I wasn’t doing this alone.

One night, I ran into Christie Hefner at the Mansion. I was hoping she would give me a chance to talk to Playmates or Playboy employees about AIDS, because I had started lecturing and teaching about it locally. Christie took it further: She gave me a platform. Playboy funded an initiative often called the Sex on Campus tour, and for years I traveled the country, talking to students, lecturing and raising awareness. Having a platform to talk about HIV gave me a purpose. It gave me a voice.

Students would fill the room, thinking I was there to talk about sex. They didn’t know it was going to be about HIV. When I dropped the bomb on them, the reaction was always fear: “That could’ve been me.” I would stay for hours afterward. I wanted to talk to as many young people as possible about the realities of this disease and how easy it is not to contract it. I lived to educate people about HIV and AIDS. It was a career.

I still do outreach. I speak at many venues, lecture at schools and participate in focus groups. You might even see photos of me on billboards and at bus stops around the country in ads to support HIV awareness. I’m an activist. There’s a part of me that needs to help others. Being a Playmate had its perks—we were on the guest list at all the L.A. clubs, parties and restaurants, and I was in rock videos like Great White’s “Once Bitten Twice Shy.” But more important, people listened to me because I was a Playmate; it was like I was flying in on Playboy’s magic carpet. I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

When your body starts wasting from AIDS, weight just melts off. It eats muscle mass; it’s catabolic. I needed to keep myself strong and fit, so for about 10 years I was really into body-building. The last competition I did was in 2009, and then I took what I had learned about fitness and turned that into a new career. Today I’m a personal trainer, a certified corrective exercise specialist and a sports therapy aide. I wear many hats. I love gardening in my yard; I’m a hot-pepper freak. Last year I grew cannabis. I don’t indulge—I have no desire now to drink or use drugs—but I turned it into canna-coconut oil and developed my own CBD balm, Buddha Trees. I got really into it.

It’s cliché, but today I love life. When I was diagnosed, I thought my life was over. I didn’t see a future for myself. Just making plans for that year felt really brave. But here I am, 30 years later. In about 30 more I’ll be 80 and in my rocking chair. Not all days are perfect by any means, but I’m so much more than happy. I am inspired on a daily basis. I’m going to be a grandmother this summer! My future is filled with love.

“I think we shot this in a rustic-looking old cabin near an abandoned gold mine.”

Outtakes from Armstrong’s Playmate pictorial. “Subscribers used to be able to get recorded wake-up calls from Playmates. I’d say something like ‘Okay, I’m giving you butterfly kisses all down your belly, and it’s time to get up.’

“This was taken outside the general store in a tiny town called Randsburg, not far from where I grew up.”

“When Marilyn Grabowski, PLAYBOY’s photo editor, told me they were going to make me a Playmate, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t tell anyone except my high school sweetheart, and I swore him to secrecy because I thought I was going to jinx it.”

“This is another shot from my Playmate test.”

Another outtake from Armstrong’s pictorial photo shoot.

“I grew up in the Mojave Desert. There wasn’t a whole lot to do, but I knew I wanted to be in PLAYBOY. The day I turned 18, I asked a family friend to help me submit my photos, and I got called in for a test shoot. This photo is from that shoot—the shoes and panties are mine, but they put those socks on me.”