Humor by Diane Farr

In just two years I have delivered three babies and recently finished breastfeeding the last two -- at the same time. I'm praying for an immaculate resurrection of my entire torso, but it hasn't happened yet.

So when I was offered a role on "Californication" as David Duchovny's new love interest, I accepted only if the producers would proffer me a body double. (If you haven't seen the show, nudity occurs on "Californication" as often as smog in the city it's set in.)

I am already feeling more like my former self when production agreed to this ransom. And then I discover I will also get to pick the gal whose body will perpetrate this fraud! Touchdown for Mommy's team.

Photographs of "swimsuit ready" women arrive at my trailer -- without their swimsuits on. In fact, the only part of these temptresses that I can't see is their faces, as the photos are from the neck down. Sitting in a trailer, staring at headless, nude, female bodies feels . . . beyond creepy. But even creepier is how fast I get used to it.

While analyzing other women's striations and waxing choices, there is a knock on my door. I immediately hide the photos, suddenly feeling protective of the body that will pretend to be mine -- as well as knowing there is no good way to explain why I'm sitting alone in a motor home studying 8-by-10 glossies of unclothed women. But my visitor is the person who took these photos. She is asking who I "want."

When I point out my body of choice, this normally effervescent casting lady is silenced. So what if the body I've chosen is slightly -- OK, exponentially -- more endowed than mine? This is the TV version of my body. Surely quantity can trump quality this one time. I feel somewhat scolded as I'm being told the naked body has to resemble my clothed body. For the first time I think I understand why a mistress looks nothing like a wife. The casting director points out which body looks like mine and I want to be mad at this reprimand but it's still a ridiculously perfect body she's chosen. I'm so excited to play in this game of pretend -- since I never looked like this even before bearing children -- that I happily acquiesce.

One week later when my better body arrives and introduces herself in the makeup trailer, my first thought is: "Don't speak, just be naked." This model/actress/breathing mannequin is as stunning as her picture implied and her face is beautiful, too (which I just realized I totally presumed) but when she opens her mouth -- she's an actual person. Which makes me so embarrassed! I'm just now becoming conscious of the fact that I made up an entire personality for this paramour, based on the neck-down. Is this what happens to men when they look at women from afar? My fantasy double was brazen and wild and just might rule the world, if she so chose. Now that it's here, standing in front of me and speaking -- she is demure and sweet. Which is not what I was looking for in a rock-solid version of myself.

Can I just call off this body double stuff? Not really, is the conclusion I come to if I want to play the parts of this role that require clothes. And besides, there's nothing wrong with my beauty queen stand-in -- other than she's not who I imagined. Picking a body, I mean a woman, is harder on men than I realized. But being a girl isn't easy, either, as this nearly perfect-nymph who is willing and ready to do all that I'm not must think I'm disappointed in her. I kind of am, though. The package is perfect, but it's just the whole "real person" thing that's throwing me. She needs to go back to the suburbs before she defiles herself playing me.

Wait a minute! What just happened? She's saving my chastity. How is it that this contract perk continues to make me feel so self-conscious? It's enough to send me to the gym so I can use my own body next season.

Humor & Satire

Humor & Funny Stories - Does This Naked Woman Look Like Me? | Diane Farr

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