One Take Girl

OK, this is not me. But it doesn't look entirely unlike me and the scrubs are exactly the color of the ones I wore in my television debut. Her hair is better, she is prettier and she looks more competent than me.
Anyway, I bought brand new sky blue scrubs to wear because it is a color that I feel looks good on me. I tried to do something professional with my hair which apparently means using lots of hairspray in my mind. I got all ready to go and looked in the mirror to find, horrors, a spot on my brand new scrubs! Oh, not just a little no-one-will-notice kind of spot. A round dark area in my central right boob region which brings one word to mind...lactation.
This made me break out in bilateral pit sweat, which is an ongoing problem anyway.
So I applied Tide stain stick hoping it removes mother's milk or whatever this mystery stain is. Then I had a brain storm, I'll go to the uniform store and get a second shirt in case the stain doesn't go away! Well, they had no other shirts in my size so I purchased a jacket to go over in the same color for the give away price of $18.99. Quite a steal for a jacket you don't need to cover a shirt you don't need with a stain from having your milk finally come in eighteen years post partum
Then it was off to the studio a half an hour and three major freeways through downtown Detroit away. Let me just say, my pits would give Niagra Falls a run for its money at this point. After thirty or so minutes of white-knuckle Jesus take the wheel driving I finally arrived. Kind of.
The directions took me to kind of an industrial park area and there were multple signs directing HENRY FORD HEALTH SYSTEMS TELEVISION PRODUCTION>>> and so forth. But the signs kind of stopped half way into the area. So naturally I forced my way into a security locked building insisting I belonged there only to find out, I didn't belong there. Wrong building. I think my scrubs and stethoscope made people believe I had some function that demanded respect, or at least admittance.
Finally located the right building, was examined up down and all around by I think roughly 300 people looking friendly and yet scrutinizing. Carolyn, she of hair, make up and wardrobe; would be with me shortly to see if anything could be done with me.
Several attractive tanned people with very white teeth came running up to shake my hand heartily and say my name repeatedly, apparently the opportunity to work with me has been a long time dream of most of those in the television industry.
Carolyn liked my scrubs, some other chick who was approximately eleven but seemed somehow in charge wanted me in navy blue scrubs. Off Carolyn and I went to wardrobe where navy blue scrubs were available in both small or extra large. Carolyn was not pleased feeling that my current scrubs were far superior to any they had and the color was fantastic with my eyes and the lines (insert karate like motions at my cleavage) were really good. Liz, Henry Ford media guru agreed. Back to eleven year old who gives us the nod and then on to make up and hair.
I have to take my scrub top off at this point for a professional ironing by Carolyn as I have some "visible wrinkles" (thank God she didn't notice the invisible ones). And in case you're wondering, the lactation stain was indeed disappeared. Thank you Jesus and Tide.
Carolyn irons the top, puts me back in it with instructions not to cause wrinkles, no pressure there. Onto the stool where I am caped and make-upped. And I quote, "Skin's pretty dry, huh?"
Yup.
No worries, turns out Carolyn works with the Minds of Medicine television show and has done make up for Dreamgirls (it's true!) and upcoming flick Oceans of Pearls. Clearly, I am in good hands.
With much smudging, blending and a variety of wedgy sponge things working from a giant palette, Carolyn finally fixes my offensive skin. Then a little extra eye make up is called for. Apparently purple and green are the best choices for a woman of my particular coloring. Greasy lipstick applied, blot and it's off to the set!
All of those people who've only dreamed of working with Sara Smith come rushing forward with shouts of joy and adoration. I have a killer smile! I'm gorgeous! My hair is fabulous! I am a natural beauty! That color is perfection! What a great personality! I sparkle!
Well, clearly these are people of above average intelligence.
The tell me that most people have to do their lines thirty or more times before lighting, sound, cameras and actor all come together. Well, I am a natural! I am "One Take Girl!" True. That's what they called me. One Take Girl. With a killer smile. Look at that smile. Man, what a natural. I think one man was weeping.
On to still photography for print ads where it is once again noted, I have an amazing smile and "the sweetest eyes." I don't know why you people hadn't noticed this before. I mean...
Done with the still photography the multitudes reapproach to shake my hand, thank me, congratulate me on my natural ability and mourn the fact that I did not become a professional actress.
Back to my car, thirty minutes with Jesus and I'm home.
I will get my own DVD copy of the commercial the end of July and it will air in August. Keep your eyes out.
I'll be the one with the killer smile, sweet eyes, natural delivery and no lactation stains on my breasticles.
Oh, and if this nursing thing doesn't work out; I am so going to become an actress.