In the car-crash theater of late-90s professional wrestling, Catherine Dingman—better known to WWF audiences as Barbara “B.B.” Bush—wasn’t just a character. She was a plot device, a pin-up EMT, a punchline, and for a brief, fleeting moment, one of the most recognizable faces on television you barely remember.
She came in during the chaos. This was the Attitude Era, when storylines blurred with softcore, and a good right hook sometimes mattered less than a right-angle camera shot. Dingman, standing tall at 5’10”, blonde and fit, looked like a centerfold in scrubs—and that’s exactly how she was cast.
But Catherine Dingman didn’t show up to be a centerfold. She showed up to work. Whether you liked the script or not, she sold it—gravy bowl matches, topless stipulations, EMT gimmicks, and all.
From the Independent Scene to Prime Time Mayhem
Before she stepped onto the glossy WWF stage, Dingman paid her dues in the indie circuit as “Cousin Brandy Mae,” valet to the overalls-wearing Tennessee Mountain Boys. It was all denim, twang, and ‘rasslin theater—the perfect primer for what came next.
In late 1999, she made her big-league debut not in the ring but around it—rescuing Road Dogg from a bear trap on SmackDown!, showing up in Survivor Series skits, even performing the Heimlich maneuver on Miss Kitty post-Gravy Bowl.
If it sounded ridiculous, that’s because it was.
But in that absurdity, B.B. found her niche.
She wasn’t just eye candy—she was comic relief, chaos manager, and occasionally, a decoy victim for a table spot courtesy of Bubba Ray Dudley. The camera loved her. The script, less so.
Attitude with a Wink
By December ’99, Dingman was fully immersed in Vince McMahon’s silicone-charged soap opera. In a segment that doubled as a fever dream and a ratings stunt, she competed in the Evening Gown Pool Match at Armageddon, where disrobing was the objective, not the disqualification.
She feuded with Ivory, got cheered for her bust size, and was humiliated on cue. The highlight—or lowlight, depending on your taste—came during a “Holiday Topless Top-Rope Match” (yes, that was a real thing) where Triple H stepped in to preserve some shred of modesty before the segment could veer fully into pay-per-view territory.
These weren’t wrestling matches. They were moments. And in the late ’90s, moments meant money.
Still, behind the absurdity, Dingman showed presence—more than just playing the role, she leaned into it. She never botched the moment. She sold what was scripted. She was, in many ways, a professional in an era that chewed up and spat out plenty of others.
A Brief Flame in WCW and TNA
After her WWE exit in early 2000—following a table powerbomb that wrote her off TV—Dingman resurfaced in WCW as “Papaya,” valet to Kwee Wee. The gimmick barely got off the ground before WCW itself began collapsing under its own creative weight.
Then came TNA.
In 2002, she reemerged as Taylor Vaughn and won the Miss TNA Lingerie Battle Royal, a match that blended lace with lariats and little else. She feuded with Francine, took some belt lashings, and had her run halted by Bruce—who became the new “Miss TNA” in an angle that aged like unrefrigerated mayonnaise.
But Dingman didn’t complain. She didn’t walk out. She took the belt, the bumps, and the scripts—and made them work, as best she could, in a world that asked more for spectacle than substance.
Life After the Bell
Outside the ring, Catherine Dingman kept a lower profile. She was briefly married to wrestler Bob Holly from 2000 to 2003. After wrestling, she faded from the public eye—no tell-all memoir, no podcast tour, no reality show.
And maybe that’s the biggest surprise of all. In an era where everyone was trying to outshout the next gimmick, B.B. quietly walked away, leaving only flashes in highlight reels and snippets on YouTube compilations titled “WWE’s Wildest Moments.”
Legacy in the Footnotes
Dingman will never headline a Hall of Fame class. She won’t have a five-star match in Tokyo called back by pundits. But her role—however exploited or absurd—was part of the machine that pushed wrestling into its most-watched period in history.
She was Miss TNA. She was B.B. She was Papaya. She was the EMT who got put through a table.
But mostly, she was game.
And in the bizarre, bras-and-bruises world of late-’90s wrestling, that was often the most valuable skill of all.