Confession: Lynda Carter was my first sexual fantasy I always wanted to be a super hero. I suppose this statement might be true of many American, pop culture ensconced boys; but a girl super hero is different. Growing up in a culture and era where female sexuality is constantly and simultaneously celebrated and condemned; accepted and rejected; shown and hidden; the female super heroine transcends this blurred line birthed from our sexually constipated society. The life of a super heroine offers everything from fast vehicles to killer cleavage. She concurrently exists in a world of fast paced action and high fashion. She is as tough as she is beautiful. Endowed with physical powers and intelligence that would make a life time mensa member weep; she is also everyone's friend (unless you're the bad guy). She is loved by the entire world. She is the woman who lives outside this world's restrictions and rules. In the aftermath of a long era of reactionary feminism our super heroine is not reactionary she is pure pro-action. She is the perfect morph of tomboy, diva, cyborg and porn star. She is photographed as a means to enter the arena in which to celebrate fashion, exhibition, and voyeurism. Her laminated surface appears wet and impermeable. She floats on a surface of brushed metal which embraces the beauty of the exhaust pipe and a merge with the techno future in which this woman might exist. The variety of characters she might exist as are tough, playful, sexy, sometimes quite serious, sometimes dark, but always with her own get away ride. She is all the sisters of tomorrow here to greet today.