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'Hi! I'm Saskia. I'm going to be touching you all over your body, so it's nice to meet you." With this hyper-honest opening line, Saskia Robbins extended her hand to Heidi Kuhrt.
Kuhrt, a local realtor, had volunteered her six-months-pregnant belly for a new experience. Her swollen orb, complete with adjacent breasts, was to be preserved for time eternal through a process that is slowly gaining popularity: belly casting.
Robbins calls it "maternity for eternity."
She discovered the phenomenon two years ago while pregnant in Yukon, stumbling across the idea in a book. But when she zipped out to buy the supplies, she learned that plaster strips like the ones used by doctors to mend broken limbs weren't exactly available at the corner store.
"It was kind of awkward, getting the materials," says Robbins, who splits her time between Dawson City and White Rock.
She did eventually scare up the tools and -- with her sister's help -- took an impression of her bump. She was delighted with the art. So much, in fact, that she left her job at a women's shelter and started her own company doing private castings and producing belly and baby-bum casting kits for retail.
It may seem a tad bizarre at first, but Kuhrt was quite open to the idea. Perhaps the pregnancy hormones had something to do with it.
Robbins' soothing demeanour also helps. If anyone is going to be methodically slathering plaster over your nipples, it may as well be her. The Meg Tilley look-a-like is perky, but she also exudes an enchanting maternal grace.
So, somehow, when Kuhrt was slumped topless in her living room glistening with petroleum jelly, the scene seemed terribly normal.
Robbins had placed her on a pillow-buffered chair before greasing her up. It's essential for the mother-to-be to find a comfortable position for the 30- to 40-minute process, Robbins explained, because squirming can result in a jigsaw puzzle rather than a belly cast.
"If you don't include the breasts, then it looks like a basketball because there's no point of reference," says Robbins.
The nudity makes belly casting a bonding experience. Robbins says it's unlikely you could pull it off solo, so it's a fun activity to share with the father, a close friend, a relative or -- if you're a real showboat -- you can be the entertainment at your own baby shower.
A bigger girth means more dramatic results, so cast as close to the birth as possible. Some women take that literally.
"There have been women who did it during labour. It's such a long process, so why not get your mind off it?" says Robbins.
Others take one cast per trimester to capture the progress.
Given the bulk of the finished product, the steps are surprisingly simple. Robbins dipped each plaster strip in a tray of warm water before laying them two-deep on Kuhrt's skin. Within minutes, it began to harden.
"Waxing is free!" Robbins chirped. Kuhrt looked concerned.
This brings us to the inevitable question: can the kits be used to capture other prominent body parts that, like the belly, may not always retain their glory?
"That'll be a whole other kit in another store," Robbins joked, but didn't say it couldn't be done.
When Kuhrt's belly was fully covered, it looked like she had borrowed Venus de Milo's bustier top. Robbins ran her fingers around the perimeter and eased it off smoothly.
"I'm so big!" Kuhrt exclaimed.
Apart from giving expectant moms a three-dimensional context for their size, the casts provide great "birds and bees" teaching tools for the baby.
"The funniest part is showing your baby afterward, and saying, 'This is where you were!' " says Robbins.
Once the cast has dried for a full 48 hours, the sky's the limit. Most women poke holes in the shoulders and hang them as art in the nursery. Robbins kept hers white, but clients have painted them, mounted them on easels and tied bows around the waist.
Kuhrt says hanging it over the mantle in the living room is a bit of a stretch -- but she plans to have her artist sister adorn the final product.
Robbins' baby-bum kits, which only take six minutes to execute, are just as novel.
"Every mommy loves their baby's bummy," says Robbins. "It's that special place that's always covered, so when you see it you think it's sooo cute!"
She says the bigger the bum, the chunkier and therefore the more adorable it is.
But, um, how big?
"Somebody asked: 'How old can you be to still do the bum casting kit?' and I said: 'well, up to 30 if you really want. . ." Robbins says in a doubtful tone. "It just depends on what you think is cute."
On the other hand, if you're in the market for a conversation piece for your bathroom wall. . .
HOW TO DO IT
Robbins charges $90 for a personal belly-casting session and $60 for a baby bum. Email castings@tummies2bummies.com The ready-made kits retail starting at $49.95 (belly) and $29.95 (bum) and are available directly from Robbins and at several local stores including Nestings Kids (2835 W. Fourth) and Belly & Beyond (4118 Main St).
rosler@png.canwest.com
