Time for some Botox!!!

My entire life I have been told I look like my Mom. Not that we resemble each other, but that we look exactly alike. If someone has met my mom, and then sees me for the first time by myself they will tell me "oh I knew you were Donna's daughter as soon as I saw you!" And it is true - we do look a lot alike. We are about the same height, both have short hair, pretty much the same eyes, and other similar facial features. I always referred to myself as the "Northern Version" with dark hair and pale skin, of tan, blonde highlighted Donna.

Before I go any further I must say that my mother is beautiful. She has always been beautiful, and looks at least 15 years younger than she actually is, so when people tell me I look like her, I take it as a compliment...now on with my story...

When I was in my teens, and starting to really look more like my mother, I LOATHED when people told me I looked like her. It wasn't so much that I didn't think we looked alike, or didn't want to look like her, it was more that it was all people told me. Every time I saw her friends, or even complete strangers, it would be all, "you look more and more like your mother every day!" It was all I heard - that I was a mini-Donna. I wanted to be my own person. I wanted them to notice me for something else, and not just that I looked like my mother. I wanted my own identity. And really, what 18 year old wants to hear nothing but how much they look like their 40-something year old mother!

The older I got the more ok I was with it all. People would joke with us and call us sisters, much to my mother's delight. I would laugh it off, because they were not being serious, but being flattering to my mother...until they actually were being serious.

In the last 5 years my mother and I have been called sisters a handful of times - and each time was in all seriousness. In that time, my mother has since let her hair go naturally gray, I have put on a little weight, but not much else has changed. Sisters? Are you serious?

I know what you are thinking, that these idiots that said this were trying to flatter my mother, but I kid you not, they seriously thought we were sisters. Do I look like I am 63 years old? Does my mother look like she is 37? Do we both look 40? 50?? What are you saying you imbeciles!!???

Last year, my husband treated us to a spa day in honor of Mother's Day. I was getting a facial, while my mother was getting a pedicure. I am talking (it is one of my pet peeves when getting a facial [and getting my teeth cleaned] to be constantly asked questions) and I said something about "my mother getting a pedicure" and the aesthetician stops what she is doing and literally gaps and says "that woman out there is your mother? I swear to God I thought you were sisters!"

Never have I wanted to slap someone so hard in my life (well, until later but you must read on).

This is what I wanted to say to her, but of course I did not:
Sisters? You thought that woman with the gray hair out there was my sister? Sure, she looks fabulous for her age - of 63 - but your first thought was that I was her sister and not her daughter? What age would that make me? Let's pretend that you thought she was, what, 50? What age does that make me? 45? Am I her younger sister? Or am I her older sister? I think my mom could pass for 55, maybe 52 - do you think that I am actually 36, as I am in real life, and that I am the OOPS! of the family and we are actually sisters? Why would you say this to me? In no way is this a compliment to me. You are saying that I look MUCH older than I really am. What woman on any fucking planet wants to be told that?????? Do you know how this makes me feel???

I just also have to throw out there that this woman proceeded to tell me that I should shave my face with a razor "a la Caroline Manzo." I can't even....WORDS.

Let's fast forward 7 months to the week before this past Christmas...

My brother and I stop at Target after a grueling workout at the gym. We are sweaty, and flush and in gym clothes (obviously). My brother stands next to me (he is 19 months younger than I am, about 6 foot 5 to my 5 foot 9) as we are at the cash register. The cashier, an Indian woman approximately in her late 40s, looks at me and says....are you ready for this....

"Is this your son?"

I literally did the thing where you point to yourself and then look around to see if she was actually talking to me, as I was filled with a rage like no other rage anyone has experienced before.

This is the perfect depiction of how I felt:


"Me? You are talking to me? You think this man looks like he could be my son? Me?"

"He is not your son?"

Here is what I wanted to say, but of course did not (but probably should have): My son? Are you fucking kidding me with this, woman? Do you need your eyes checked? You think that this MAN, standing next to me right here could be my son???? What are you saying????? Are you saying that I look old enough to have a 35 year old son? Or are you saying that he, at six foot five, looks like he is 6 years old? What is it you are saying woman?? Because in no way are you coming out of this situation without being slapped across the face. 

As a decent human being, with good manners, I would never think twice about saying something like this to a complete stranger. I would never comment on a person's appearance, especially someone that I didn't know. Of course I am curious why you have that bandaid on your face, but I will talk to you and pretend like I don't see it, as I was not raised by gorillas in the mist!!!!

I get flushed when I workout, and when I am embarrassed or nervous - do you know how many people in my life have told me this? Do they think I do not know this? What good is it you telling me that I have red cheeks? You are just making them redder.

It goes without saying that my New Year's resolution is to take better care of myself, my skin, my hair...and possibly look into a chemical peel, face lift, botox and other rejuvenating treatments as I apparently look like I am a 60 year old mother of a 35 year old man.

When She Grows Up

I was just constructing a very very long comment in response to Mama R's latest post below, and I figured I would just turn it into an actual post because I have LOTS to say on this issue. I too have been thinking about when M grows up to be a young woman...

Recently I went to a family reunion for my husbands side of the family. In the 11 years I have been going to these events I have watched all his sibling's and cousin's kids grow up into teenagers, and young adults...some whose diapers I once changed! (Didn't you hate when people used to say that to you? I make it a point to say it to my favorite little boy at these events who is now 8 and he thinks it is so gross, which means hysterical to me :). Now, I am not used to being around teenagers by any means, and I was around A LOT of teenagers over these 2 days. Let me first say that we are blessed to have wonderfully polite and kind kids in our family, all of whom get along with each other swimmingly, and I find, as an adult, are very easy to talk to (which I don't feel like was the case for me when I was their age!). But to get to my point - holy hell what in the name of JC are teenage girls wearing these days!!

Like Mama R mentioned below, it seems to be the trend to wear VERY VERY short shorts, no matter what your body type. And not only are shorts short, but shirts are tight, and boobs are hanging out! The 13 year olds look like they are 18, and the 18 year olds? That is another story - I have one niece that dresses like she has been working it on the street corner. I remember when I was 14 it was trendy to wear big plaid button down shirts with very pleated baggy shorts! We did roll them up a bit, but I am talking like mid-thigh at the highest...these days the girls are practically showing some ass cheek. I am hoping that, like with most trends, my early 90s fashion of baggy menswear will be in full affect come M's teenage years. I highly doubt that though. I envision my daughter trying to leave the house just her underwear. God help me (and more so my husband).

Thinking about my fashion sense as a teenager got me thinking about other things I used to do...mostly concerning boys. While my friends in the in-crowd had boyfriends starting in practically nursery school, I didn't date at all (sure a kiss here and there) until I was a junior in high school. Let's just call my first boyfriend "Jim", and make a long story short by saying he was a terribly abusive (mostly verbally) and controlling person who was very popular amongst my school friends. He paid attention to me like no boy ever had in my life, and therefore I was smitten. I didn't care if he didn't want me to hang out with my friends (biggest mistake of my life), or lie to my parents (makes me sick to my stomach when I think about it). He made me feel special sometimes and I was someone's girlfriend, someone popular with a nice car who was older and cooler. I stupidly dated him for almost 4 years - into my junior year of college, which was 1000s of miles away from where he lived - and he still controlled me by threatening me over the phone if I was to go out to a club with my friends. My parents hated him, and I hated him, but he had some magic hold over me that I can't explain. Finally I gathered up the strength to break it off with him before my 20th birthday, which I still feel like is when my life truly began again. If you met me now, and knew me then, you would not even have known I was the same person. In some ways I am glad this whole situation happened to me, because I wouldn't have the friends I have, or took the job I took after college, where I met the perfect man (BTW he couldn't be more opposite in looks, behavior, intellegence, heart...you name it!), who I have made the perfect life with...yada yada yada. Everything happens for a reason...

I share this with you because thinking about M being older and this happening to her brings me to tears. Will she have the same self esteem issues that I did? Sure I was part of the "popular" group in high school, and had lots of friends, but I was never one that the boys looked at twice. I was always taller and more athletic (looking back at photos of myself I cannot even fathom why I thought my size 10 perfect body was fat!!). I didn't have the boobs the other girls had, or the skinny legs and flat stomach. And when this wolf in sheep's clothing came into my life and cast his spell on me I didn't know any better! Will she really listen to me when I tell her my stories about Jim? Will she understand that she should never let anyone treat her the way that Jim treated me? My parents tried countless times to get me to understand but I wouldn't listen...will M? I just hope and pray (and I don't pray) to never be in that situation with her. Ever.

The fact that M will be anything other than a toddler in the future scares the crap out of me. I finally have this parenting a toddler thing down, and now she is turning into a little kid. I know I will figure this next stage out just like I did before, but what happens when she is older and thinking for herself, and wanting freedom and talking back! Who am I kidding, that is already happening...