When she is competing, her features pull into a mask of smouldering intensity; a fierce face which says: the medal is mine; mine ... you hear me?
Adams herself says: "It's my eff off look." She realises what she's said and claps a hand over her erring mouth. "Oh, sorry," she grins.
And what a grin. Bulbs powered by 10,000 volts couldn't light up her face any better.
She grins constantly through the grind of media interviews. Someone has produced a video of her and done a fine job - it captures not just her shot putting but gives a glimpse into a mischievous personality.
Her casual cussing used to sound immature; the emphasis of someone who didn't yet fit into her skin properly. At the Athens Olympics of 2004, she came across as a defensive, inexperienced girl.
Before the Beijing Olympics of 2008, she was a more nervous person than the Adams of today. In 2012, Val Adams is obviously feeling great.
She says herself she's in the best shape; the best space; she has ever been at this time of year. She still casually cusses but it comes across as charm these days, accompanied by that face-splitting grin and explosive laugh.
She often talks about doing her best and really attacking the shot; what she actually says is "smacking the crap out of it" - now an Adams trademark.
This is a woman comfortable in her 1.96m, 110kg skin.
She is also a media pro now - dealing easily with the personal questions, the trick questions and the odd. "I'm not that weird," she snorts when asked if she ever dreams about shot putting. Later, she reduces most of the media to laughter - no easy feat - when talking about her recent work with schoolkids, partly aimed at unearthing the next Val Adams.
"I like the little brown kids best," she says with disarming candour. "They're the funniest."
Every atom of her being, her body language and that flashing grin all say: "Happy".
But a happy athlete isn't necessarily a world or Olympic champion. Sometimes athletes need the spur of nervousness, anxiety and negatives to prod them to winning action. "Nah," says Adams, "I am in the best place of my life. If you're talking about being nervous, I had plenty of nerves with the stress from my ex-husband. Then there was the split from my last coach. And Kirsten [her first coach, Kirsten Hellier]. You could say I went through a couple of divorces ... it was hard.
"But when things get hard, you get working hard. Change is good, it's part of sport, and change is also good if it has good reasons behind it. I did - and I have no regrets - I think that's what you're seeing in me now."
We talk about her "game face" and how she manages to spook opposition with her imposing presence in major events. She socialises with her rivals, even her closest competitor, Belarusian Nadya Ostapchuk (who beat Adams to the last indoor world championship).
The shot put women know each other well; thrown together as they are on the world circuit. They meet often for breakfast or dinner. So how does she switch off the friends and switch on the face?
"That's just what you do - you just throw the switch. They are up there trying to bust your arse, just as you are trying to bust theirs. You switch your game face on and then you are no longer in the dining room of the hotel - you are trying to psych them out of the game, just as they are trying to do that to you.
"I don't do it deliberately - it just happens when I get in that zone. I think I look really ugly [when I've got my game face on]."
It is a mark of the mature Valerie Adams that she doesn't pause after that statement; she isn't looking for the interviewer to rush in and protest that she really doesn't look ugly at all. She knows who she is and what she does, thank you very much.
She is also relaxed and happy about her financial support from Visa, a new contract with Nike and High Performance Sport New Zealand - allowing fears to be laid to rest that she was once considering switching countries to gain a better income; something she denied at the time.
In Beijing, she intimidated her opposition with a monster first throw. She would like to do the same thing again in London, though she has proved she can also come from behind.
It's the end of the interview, she has another waiting to talk to her.
"Next," she yells. We shake hands and that grin bursts through again. It is impossible not to wish this happy, together woman well.
Smack the crap out of it, Val.
