The Brazilian supermodel made a comeback on the runway at the age of 43, showing off her “slim” body transformation for the 2024 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show.
Adriana Lima’s appearance at the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show on October 15, 2024, was one of the best moments of the night. After retiring in 2018, after nearly 20 years with the lingerie brand, and having her third child in 2022, she amazed the crowd with her new look, which fans quickly noticed and praised.
Lima first shared her retirement in 2018 at the age of 37. In an Instagram post, which she has since deleted, she reflected on her long time with the brand. “Dear Victoria, thank you for showing me the world, sharing your secrets, and most importantly not just giving me wings but teaching me to fly,” she wrote.
When talking about her last walk, Lima told People, “This has been my 18th fashion show, and I am still as excited as I was from the first day. I think this year is going to be the highlight of my career.”
After leaving modeling, she was only seen at some events and on social media. In a TikTok video from February 2022, Lima shared that she was pregnant with her third child, her first with partner Andre Lemmers.
By April, the couple released a gender reveal video, announcing that a boy would join Lima’s daughters from her previous marriage, Valentina and Sienna. Her son, Cyan, was born in August 2022.
During her pregnancy, the retired supermodel looked amazing in stylish maternity outfits at important events, like the 75th Cannes Film Festival in May 2022. Wearing a mustard gown from Nicolas Jebran, she proudly showed off her baby bump on the red carpet, and while she looked great, it was different from her usual slimmer figure.
Fast forward to 2023, Lima attended the Venice International Film Festival in a Pinko gown with a plunging neckline and gold accents. At this event, her fuller face and body were still noticeable.
A few months later, the supermodel went to the Mon Cheri Barbara Tag event in Munich, Germany, in December 2023. She wore a form-fitting gray gown by Donna Karan and looked like she was losing her previous weight.
However, her October 2024 runway appearance showed her full transformation. During the 2024 Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show in Brooklyn, Lima wowed the crowd not just with her outfits but also with her youthful appearance. A backstage photo captured her glowing skin and tight facial features.
Once ready, Lima hit the runway wearing a checker-striped outfit with a black bra and high-waisted pants, topped with a long-sleeved cut-out top for her first look. Her grunge-style angel wings added a cool touch to the outfit.
For her second appearance, she wore a red lace nightie with sparkling wings that showcased her renewed energy. This moment reminded everyone of her younger days as an angel for the brand, and fans quickly expressed their admiration for her physical change on social media.
One fan said, “She’s lost so much weight. She’s back .” Another wrote, “SHE LOOKS GREAT HER SLIM BODY IS BACK. GREAT JOB. I LIKE THIS OUTFIT TOO.”
Kiya Cole, the mother of actress Skai Jackson, added, “She worked hard in the gym this past year! I was a witness. No quick fix for her!” Another commenter expressed, “She is back with a vengeance, love her.”
Fans were also happy to see the show featuring a variety of healthier bodies, like Lima’s. One commented, “These bodies look healthier, and I like that, in different sizes but healthy, good for VS.”
AT 78, I SOLD EVERYTHING I HAD AND BOUGHT ONE WAY TICKET TO SEE THE LOVE OF MY LIFE – IN THE PLANE, MY DREAM WAS CRUSHED
The worn leather of the suitcase felt rough against my trembling hands. Forty years. Forty years of regret, of guilt gnawing at my soul. Forty years since I had last seen Elizabeth, the love of my life. Forty years since my own stupidity had torn us apart.
I glanced at the address scribbled on a crumpled piece of paper, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. 123 Maple Street, Willow Creek, Ohio. It felt like a destination in a dream, a place I had only ever dared to imagine.
The plane ride was a blur. My mind raced, a whirlwind of memories and “what ifs.” What would she look like now? Would she still have that mischievous glint in her eyes, that infectious laugh that used to fill our small apartment? Would she recognize me, this old man, weathered by time and regret?
As the plane began its descent, a wave of dizziness washed over me. I gripped the armrests, my knuckles white. My chest felt tight, a burning sensation spreading through my lungs. Voices, muffled and distant, seemed to come from far away.
“Sir, are you alright?”
I tried to respond, but only a strangled gasp escaped my lips. The world tilted, then plunged into darkness.
When I awoke, I was in a sterile white room, the smell of antiseptic filling my nostrils. A blurry image of concerned faces swam into view – a nurse, a doctor, a young woman with kind eyes.
“Where… where am I?” I croaked, my voice weak and raspy.
“You’re at St. Jude’s Hospital, sir,” the young woman said gently. “You suffered a heart attack. You’re lucky to be alive.”
Heart attack. The words echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of my mortality. But a different thought, more urgent, pushed its way to the forefront. Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth,” I rasped, my voice hoarse. “Is she… is she here?”
The young woman hesitated, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and uncertainty. “I… I don’t know, sir. Who is Elizabeth?”
My heart sank. Had I imagined it? Had the years of loneliness and regret twisted my mind, creating a fantasy, a desperate hope?
Days turned into weeks. I spent my recovery in the hospital, haunted by the uncertainty. The doctors assured me that I was stable, but the fear of losing consciousness again, of never seeing Elizabeth, lingered.
One afternoon, as I sat by the window, watching the world go by, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway. A woman, her hair streaked with silver, her eyes crinkled at the corners. She was more beautiful than I remembered, her face etched with the lines of time, yet her smile was the same, the same smile that had captivated me all those years ago.
“Arthur,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Tears welled up in my eyes. It was her. Elizabeth.
She rushed towards me, her arms open wide. I held her close, burying my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of lavender, a scent that transported me back to a time of youthful dreams and endless possibilities.
“I never stopped loving you, Arthur,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped waiting.”
And in that moment, I knew that despite the years that had passed, despite the pain and the regret, love, true love, had a way of finding its way back home.
As we held each other, the world seemed to melt away. The years of separation, the loneliness, the fear – all of it seemed insignificant compared to the joy of holding her in my arms once more. We had lost so much time, but we still had now. And that, I realized, was all that truly mattered. The worn leather of my suitcase felt rough against my trembling hands. Forty years. Forty years of longing, of regret, of a life lived in a perpetual twilight. Forty years since I had last seen Elizabeth, the love of my life, the woman whose laughter still echoed in the empty chambers of my heart.
I remembered the day vividly. The rain was coming down in sheets, mirroring the storm brewing inside me. We were arguing, a petty disagreement blown out of proportion by youthful pride and stubbornness. I had stormed out, my words echoing in the rain-slicked street. “Fine,” I had spat, “I don’t need you!”
I hadn’t meant it. Not really. But the words hung heavy in the air, a cruel echo of my own anger. I walked for hours, the rain washing away my pride and replacing it with a growing dread. When I finally returned, the lights in our small apartment were off. I called her name, my voice cracking with fear, but there was no answer.
The police found her car abandoned by the river, a chilling testament to the storm that had raged within me. The search parties, the endless waiting, the gnawing uncertainty – it had aged me beyond my years. The vibrant hues of life had faded, replaced by a monotonous grey.
Then, a miracle. A letter, tucked amongst a pile of bills and advertisements, a faded envelope bearing a familiar handwriting. “I’ve been thinking of you,” it read.
The words, simple yet profound, ignited a fire within me. Hope, a fragile ember that had long since been extinguished, flickered back to life. I devoured every letter, each one a precious piece of her, a glimpse into the life she had built. I learned about her children, her grandchildren, her passions, her joys, and her sorrows. And with each letter, the ache in my heart lessened, replaced by a yearning so intense it almost consumed me.
Then, the invitation. “Come,” it read, “Come see me.”
She had included her address.
And so, here I was, 78 years old, sitting on a plane, my hands trembling, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribs. I hadn’t flown in decades. The world outside the window, a blur of clouds and sky, mirrored the chaos within me.
Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted in my chest. I gasped for air, my vision blurring. Voices, distant and muffled, filled my ears. “Sir, are you alright?” “We need to get him some air!”
Panic clawed at my throat. Not now. Not when I was finally this close.
Then, through the haze, I saw her face. Her eyes, the same shade of hazel as mine, wide with concern.
“John?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
And in that moment, time seemed to stand still. The pain, the fear, the decades of longing – they all faded away. All that remained was her. Elizabeth.
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring her face. But I knew. I knew it was her.
And as I slipped into unconsciousness, I whispered her name, a silent prayer, a love song carried on the wind.
I woke up in a hospital room, the scent of antiseptic filling my nostrils. Elizabeth sat beside me, her hand gently clasped in mine.
“You gave me quite a scare,” she said, her voice soft as a summer breeze.
I managed a weak smile. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
And as I looked at her, at the lines etched on her face, the silver strands in her hair, I knew that this was just the beginning. We had forty years to catch up on, to rediscover the love we had lost. Forty years to make up for the time we had wasted.
And as I held her hand, I knew that this time, nothing would ever tear us apart again.
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