In the world of modeling, beauty standards often dictate how models should look. But Rada Prelevic is proving that embracing what makes you different can be your greatest strength. The 18-year-old model, known as Rada Viic on social media, has captured the world’s attention—not just for her talent, but for a unique feature that sets her apart: a hairy birthmark right in the middle of her forehead.
Despite receiving constant criticism and calls to remove it, Rada refuses to conform. Instead, she proudly embraces her unconventional beauty and responds to negativity with grace, confidence, and unwavering self-love.
She Went Viral for Her Unique Look
Rada’s one-of-a-kind appearance quickly made her a social media sensation. With thousands of followers, she stands out in the modeling industry not just for her striking beauty, but for her confidence in owning her natural features.
Her hairy birthmark, which extends from her forehead in long strands, has sparked endless debates online. Some are fascinated by her rare genetic trait, while others flood her comments with harsh criticism, rude remarks, and demands to shave it off.
But instead of hiding or apologizing for her uniqueness, Rada took to social media to address her haters head-on.
In a candid video, she firmly declared:
“I love my hair. I won’t shave it. Why does it bother so many people?”
Her words struck a chord with many who have felt pressured to conform to unrealistic beauty standards.
She Was Born With It—And Owns It With Pride
Rada’s distinctive feature isn’t a fashion statement or an attention-seeking gimmick—it’s something she was born with.
Originally from Serbia, Rada has lived in Oslo, Norway, since she was five years old. In one of her videos, she explained that her forehead hair is part of a birthmark, and there’s no medical explanation for why it grew in such a unique way.
Instead of viewing it as a flaw, she has learned to embrace it as a special part of who she is.
She Shuts Down Haters With Style and Confidence
Not everyone understands why Rada refuses to remove her forehead hair. Some people react with genuine curiosity, while others attack her appearance out of ignorance or cruelty.
Negative comments like:
- “I wanna cut it off so bad.”
- “This is just for attention.”
- “It doesn’t have to be there.”
…have flooded her posts, but Rada never lets them break her confidence.
Instead of engaging in negativity, she responds with grace, wit, and self-assurance.
At the same time, she has gained a loyal following of supporters who admire her fearlessness and celebrate her unique beauty.
One fan wrote:
“You are my number one idol from today on!”
Another commented:
“You’re proof that true beauty is about confidence, not perfection.”
Her Hair Has Boosted Her Modeling Career
What some people call “weird”, the fashion industry calls “iconic”.
Rada’s hairy birthmark has become her signature feature, making her stand out in an industry that’s always looking for the next big thing.
Instead of trying to fit into conventional beauty norms, Rada leans into her uniqueness, and top fashion magazines, designers, and photographers love her for it.
Her rare look sets her apart from other models, giving her an edge that many professionals find intriguing and unforgettable.
She Won’t Change for Anyone—Not Even for Love
Rada’s self-confidence isn’t limited to just her career—it extends to her personal life as well.
In matters of love and relationships, she has made one thing clear:
She will never change herself for someone else’s approval.
She has openly stated that she would never date someone who doesn’t fully accept her for who she is.
For Rada, authenticity is non-negotiable—whether it’s in the fashion industry, her personal life, or the way she carries herself every day.
A Symbol of Self-Acceptance and Individuality
Rada Prelevic’s story is a powerful reminder that beauty isn’t about fitting in—it’s about standing out and embracing who you truly are.
Her ability to handle criticism with confidence, turn hate into empowerment, and use her uniqueness to build a thriving career is inspiring millions around the world.
She’s proving that being different is not just okay—it’s extraordinary.
I Didn’t Tell My Husband’s Family I Speak Their Language, and It Helped Me Uncover a Shocking Secret about My Child
I thought I knew everything about my husband—until I overheard a shocking conversation between his mother and sister. When Peter finally confessed the secret he’d been hiding about our first child, my world shattered, and I was left questioning everything we had built together.
Peter and I had been married for three years. We met during a whirlwind summer, and everything just clicked. He was smart, funny, and kind, everything I’d ever wanted. When we found out I was pregnant with our first child a few months later, it felt like fate.
A photo of a happy couple | Source: Pexels
Now, we were expecting our second baby, and our lives seem pretty perfect. But things haven’t been as smooth as they appear.
I’m American, and Peter’s German. At first, the differences between us were exciting. When Peter’s job transferred him back to Germany, we moved there with our first child. I thought it would be a fresh start, but it wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped.
A man packing boxes | Source: Pexels
Germany was beautiful, and Peter was thrilled to be back in his home country. But I struggled. I missed my family and friends. And Peter’s family, well, they were… polite at best. His parents, Ingrid and Klaus, didn’t speak much English, but I understood more German than they realized.
At first, I didn’t mind the language barrier. I thought it would give me time to learn more German and blend in. But then, the comments started.
A successful woman | Source: Pexels
Peter’s family came over often, especially Ingrid and Peter’s sister, Klara. They would sit in the living room, chatting away in German. I’d be in the kitchen or tending to our child, pretending not to notice when their conversation shifted toward me.
“That dress… it doesn’t suit her at all,” Ingrid once said, not bothering to lower her voice.
“She’s gained so much weight with this pregnancy,” Klara added with a smirk.
A smirking woman | Source: Pexels
I’d look down at my swelling belly, my hands automatically smoothing over the fabric. Yes, I was pregnant, and yes, I’d gained weight, but their words still stung. They acted like I couldn’t understand them, and I never let on that I could. I didn’t want to cause a scene, and deep down, I wanted to see how far they’d go.
One afternoon, I overheard something that cut even deeper.
Two gossiping women | Source: Pexels
“She looks tired,” Ingrid remarked, pouring tea as Klara nodded. “I wonder how she’ll manage two children.”
Klara leaned in, lowering her voice a little. “I’m still not sure about that first baby. He doesn’t even look like Peter.”
I froze, standing just out of sight. I felt my stomach drop. They were talking about our son.
Ingrid sighed. “His red hair… it’s not from our side of the family.”
Klara chuckled. “Maybe she didn’t tell Peter everything.”
A chuckling woman | Source: Pexels
They both laughed softly, and I stood there, too stunned to move. How could they say that? I wanted to scream at them, tell them they were wrong, but I stayed quiet, my hands trembling. I didn’t know what to do.
The next visit after our second baby was born was the hardest. I was exhausted, trying to manage a newborn and our toddler. Ingrid and Klara arrived, offering smiles and congratulations, but I could tell something was off. They whispered to each other when they thought I wasn’t looking, and the tension in the air was thick.
Two women gossiping | Source: Pexels
As I sat feeding the baby in the other room, I heard them talking in hushed voices. I leaned closer to the door, listening.
“She still doesn’t know, does she?” Ingrid whispered.
Klara laughed softly. “Of course not. Peter never told her the truth about the first baby.”
My heart skipped a beat. The truth? About our first baby? What were they talking about?
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
I felt my pulse quicken, and a cold wave of fear washed over me. I knew I shouldn’t listen, but I couldn’t help it. What could they mean? I needed to know more, but their voices faded as they moved to another room. I sat there, frozen, my mind racing.
What had Peter not told me? And what was this “truth” about our first child?
A thoughtful woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney
I stood up, my legs shaky, and called Peter into the kitchen. He came in, looking confused. I could barely keep my voice steady.
“Peter,” I whispered, “what is this about our first baby? What haven’t you told me?”
His face turned pale, his eyes widening in panic. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, he sighed heavily and sat down, burying his face in his hands.
A tired man in his kitchen | Source: Pexels
“There’s something you don’t know,” Peter looked up at me, guilt written all over his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor. “When you gave birth to our first…” He paused, taking a deep breath. “My family… they pressured me to get a paternity test.”
I stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. “A paternity test?” I repeated slowly, as if saying it out loud would help me understand. “Why? Why would they—?”
A shocked woman in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“They thought… the timing was too close to when you ended your last relationship,” he said, his voice breaking. “And the red hair… They said the baby couldn’t be mine.”
I blinked, my head spinning. “So you took a test? Behind my back?”
Peter stood up, his hands shaking. “It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you! I never doubted you,” he said quickly. “But my family wouldn’t let it go. They were convinced something wasn’t right. They kept pushing me. I didn’t know how to make it stop.”
A shocked man looking up | Source: Pexels
“And what did the test say, Peter?” I asked, my voice rising. “What did it say?”
He swallowed hard, his eyes filled with regret. “It said… it said I wasn’t the father.”
The room felt like it was closing in on me. “What?” I whispered, struggling to breathe. “I never cheated on you! How could that—”
An upset woman in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney
Peter stepped closer, desperate to explain. “It didn’t make sense to me, either. I know the baby is mine in every way that matters. But the test… it came back negative. My family didn’t believe me when I told them it was positive. I had to confess.”
I pulled away from him, my whole body shaking. “And you’ve believed it, too? For years? And you didn’t tell me? It has to be wrong!” I cried, feeling like the ground had disappeared beneath my feet. “We have to get another test! We have to—”
A heartbroken woman at her table | Source: Midjourney
Peter’s face crumpled as he reached for my hands, but I pulled them back. “How come you don’t see it?” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “The timing… We started dating so soon after you broke up with your ex. You must’ve fallen pregnant without even realizing it. The test didn’t change how I felt about you or our son. I didn’t care if he was mine. I wanted to be with you, so I accepted him readily.”
A sad man on the kitchen floor | Source: Pexels
I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “You should’ve trusted me,” I said, my voice trembling. “I never even suspected that he wasn’t yours. Why would I? We’ve been raising him together. You’ve been his father. We could’ve handled this together, Peter, but instead, you lied to me. You kept this secret while I was living in the dark.”
“I know,” Peter whispered, his eyes filled with regret. “I was scared. But I wanted a family with you more than anything. My parents wouldn’t let it go, but I didn’t want you to think I doubted you. I never doubted you.”
A regretful man | Source: Midjourney
I took a step back, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. “I need some air.”
Peter reached out, but I turned away, walking out of the kitchen and into the cool night. The air hit my face, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside me. How could he have done this? I thought about our son, how Peter had held him when he was born, how he’d loved him. None of that made sense with what he just told me. I felt betrayed, lost.
A crying woman | Source: Pexels
For a few minutes, I stood there, staring at the stars, trying to piece it all together. As much as I wanted to scream, to cry, I also knew Peter wasn’t a bad person. He was scared. His family had pushed him into this, and he’d made a terrible mistake by hiding it from me. But he’d still stayed by my side, by our son’s side, all these years. He had lied, but not out of cruelty.
A woman on her porch | Source: Midjourney
I wiped the tears from my eyes and took a deep breath. I had to go back inside. We couldn’t leave things like this. Not with our family on the line.
When I walked back into the kitchen, Peter was sitting at the table, his face buried in his hands again. He looked up when he heard me, his eyes red and swollen.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
A sad man sitting at the table | Source: Pexels
I took a deep breath and nodded. It would take time for me to fully heal from this, but I knew we couldn’t throw away everything we’d built. We had a family, and despite all of this, I still loved him.
“We’ll figure it out,” I whispered. “Together.”
If you liked this story, consider reading this one: When my husband said our daughter wasn’t “European” enough, I knew I had to act. I devised a plan to teach him a lesson, but as I watched his world crumble, I wondered if I’d gone too far.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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