Naked with strangers, or how I became a life model

Unfortunately I didn't look as elegant as this woman

So many questions run through your mind before the event. Feeling a bit like a hired prostitute, I walked to campus with a never-ending stream of consciousness buzzing round my head. “Have I shaved? Oh God, did I remember to put deodorant on? Are they going to care about pubic hair? Will they judge me on it? They’re going to judge me on it, oh fuck. Have I shaved...etc.”

Rather than ramble on about my experience, I chose to compile a list of Dos and Don’ts for life modelling, in the hope that it will educate, rather than just rant:

DO - bring a dressing gown. Having to cover my naked shame with a slightly-too-small woolly cardigan was a bit futile.

DON’T – strip off straightaway. Wait until you’ve reached the point where you’ve got to pose before unveiling. This avoids the embarrassing situation of having to squeeze between two desks completely naked, your arse nearly knocking someone’s pencil-case onto the floor. Speaking from experience here.

DO – have some poses in mind before arriving. Being asked to choose my own pose “how you feel comfortable” was clearly too much for my brain, as it panicked and made me choose an amazingly awkward-looking position, reminiscent of a petrified squirrel.

DON’T – make eye contact with the drawers. Choosing a spot on the wall to stare resolutely at was my first decision. Making eye contact just makes it awkward and look like you’re a) trying to flirt or b) challenging them as to why they’re looking at your naked body.

DO – eat beforehand. Loud, rumbling noises akin to a summer thunderstorm are particularly embarrassing when it is clearly you and you can’t move your hand to try and suppress them.

DON’T – choose the pose that Kate does for Jack in Titanic. It may be fun at first to lie back feeling like an English rose, resting your head on your hand, but after half an hour, its bloody torture. Instead of a lesson in how to feel comfortable with my body, life modelling became a lesson in how to withstand pain as my entire arm went numb and I started shaking, gritting my teeth like some sort of deranged animal. Sexy.

What surprised me about life modelling was how un-life-changing it all was. You would expect to feel empowered, more confident or even less confident or ashamed. Instead it just left me feeling pleased with my 15 quid and relieved that my arm was usable once again.

In a completely sexless, under-the-microscope, scrutinising environment, you are merely a body to be studied. No-one will compliment or criticise your naked body, and it makes you realise how silly our own pre-conceived ideas of nakedness are. The truth is, people aren’t bothered whether you shave or not, whether you have a mole or not, you are still art, imperfections and all. And it’s wonderful.

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