I’m about to shatter your impressions of how you perceive models. Please do not read on if you want to believe that all models are perfect in every single way.
Yes I thought you may want to read on… cheeky.
This is an account of what really happened when I shot this TV commercial. A ‘behind the scenes special’ if you please.
You may be familiar with this TV commercial – it’s on your screens now and I’m the blonde girl .
It all started the day of the casting. I was showering before school drop off (which is rare I may add) before heading off to my casting for the commercial. Whilst showering I thought I’d put my multi-tasking skills to use and started cleaning the bathroom tiles with my wet hands as well as washing myself. Didn’t notice the electric fan in the top corner on the bathroom wall but it certainly noticed me and gave me an almighty electric shock.
I turned up to the school gates extremely wide eyed accompanied with a very rigid walk and deadpan face.
After the shock (physically and mentally) had subsided, I found myself in the casting waiting room reading the brief for the commercial. I had to dance (to music that I would never dance to) in front of 5 strangers in a very small box room. Usually I would have grimaced at the idea of this, but I think I was still buzzing from the electric shock or something as I found myself really going for it and not giving a shit what they thought. I was so pleased I was still alive! I could have died that morning. Death by multi-tasking in the shower is not a good way to go! So with this in mind, I gave it my all.
I got the job…
The set for this commercial was enormous and the first thing I noticed was a massive trampoline. I immediately started working on my pelvic floor exercises, when a lovely man kindly offered me a cup of tea.
Hair and make up commenced.
Having pushed out two 9lb babies within a space of 3 years, the trepidation of about to clamber onto an olympic sized trampoline, when I’ve been pretty slack with my pelvic floors and drank my weight in tea that morning started to make me feel slightly self-conscious.
It was time to shoot my scene – time to jump up and down with as much enthusiasm as a child would be on a bouncy castle over and over and over again – but I also had to think about so many other things.
I had to place my arms and legs in the correct place, eyes to camera (where the fuck is the camera when you’re jumping so quickly across the frame), I had to smile, look relaxed, adjust my shoulders to make the clothing look flattering, my hair had to be in the right place, my jump had to look good, my toes had to be pointed, my fingers needed to be straight, I had to not spill the cocktail I was sipping whilst jumping… and I had to not wet myself.
To get the perfect shot obviously took a lot of time and effort – which I was quite relaxed with at first. Then about 30 minutes in, I started to feel my bladder getting full. Shit.
‘Louise can you jump a little higher for the next one’ asks the Director.
‘Yes no problem’ I answer with an enthusiastic thumbs up and smile with such professionalism. Inside I am starting to panic slightly. Could they tell that my pelvic floors where starting to give way? Yikes! I knew I should have made more of an effort with them.
By the time the Director said ‘cut’ I must have jumped repeatedly for an hour. My black satin trousers I was wearing were umm – a little ruined. PANIC. I had about 10 minutes whilst the camera man changed the lens – then we had to shoot the whole thing over again. I thanked my lucky stars the trousers were black! Can you image if they were pale blue or another colour that would show all signs of leakage??
Whilst the lens was getting changed, I made a dash for it. I ran into the hair and make up room to get help. I had a small amount time to gain back my confidence and dry trousers. Nobody was there – so I picked up the hair dryer, stood with my legs apart, knees bent outwards (image a ballet Plie in second position) and started to blow dry my crutch. A far cry from a glamourous model perception.
Now, I’m not sure if you’ve ever blow dried urine stained satin trousers in a room with no ventatlation whilst wearing them…no??
I wouldn’t recommend it. It stinks. The hair and make up room was suddenly filled with an air that can only be described as urine on fire with a hint of singed hair.
I aborted this mission when I realised the combination of heated fabric and body liquid was a monumental blunder. I was not dry, my panic levels were at an all time high and I could hear someone approaching the make-up room.
The make up artist entered the room and hurriedly looked to see if his tongs had been left on due to the burning smell. I nonchalantly made out I couldn’t smell anything and when out of his eye and ear shot, I ran like the clappers to the toilets.
I managed to gracefully salvage the trousers (always a good selling point I think- they are bladder friendly) dusted myself off and went back to the trampoline.
Then I remembered – I had a TENA pad deep down at the bottom of my bag from a horrid gym incident (another story for another time). I cursed myself for not thinking of this before – I could have saved myself a lot of time worrying and feeling uneasy whilst trying to do my job.
The pad was absolutely brilliant. It was a life saver – thank goodness! I managed to finish the shoot with confidence and ease. I jumped as high as I could with as much effort as I could knowing that I would be dry and the outfits I had to wear would be safe.
TENA Lady pads, I salute you.
So there you have it – and this is where advertising is very clever. You see a model looking great jumping for joy in her fabulous clothes subconsciously screaming ‘BUY ME’ but actually what you see is a mother trying not to wet herself, do her job properly and get home in time for cuddles with the kids who ruined my ability to hold in urine.
Have you ever needed a TENA pad in certain situations? Please make me feel better about myself!!
Thanks for reading and buy the clothes I’m wearing in the commercial!