Happy Women’s Wednesday! Do you have a doppelganger? Is there someone you’ve always thought you looked like, or were told all your life that you resembled? Were you happy for the comparison, or were you depressed by it? How many times has someone come up to you and said, “oh my gosh, you look just like my friend Bitsy!”? And what is the proper response to that anyway? “Oh, she must be ravishing!” — OR — (modestly), “Well she must have a great personality.”! It’s certainly happened to me. From high school on, the only famous person I was compared to was Barbra Streisand. And for you fans out there, that think, WOW — how nice, not so fast. It was primarily because in high school my nose finished growing slightly ahead of the rest of me. (In fact one guy called me ‘Nose’ my entire time in high school.) MEAN. Because he would yell it down the hall every time he spied me. “Hey NOSE!”
On some daytime shows, a recurring theme is to show pictures of folks who’ve sent their photos to say, Ellen DeGeneres, claiming their amazing likeness to a celebrity. Sometimes, people even send pictures of their babies claiming they look just like Bruno Mars or Meryl Streep. But usually, the main likeness is in the pose, or wearing the same hat, and perhaps one feature that has a distant similarity. (See what I meant about Barbra Streisand? That nose?) And by the way, had it not been for my nose, I would have been flattered because I think she has a great, unique look.
There are the ‘copycats’. The people who want so much to look like a celebrity that they get a ‘Rachel’ (Jennifer Anniston) haircut, or go much further, with facial surgery to emulate their idol. How many times in the late ’70’s were hairdressers asked to ‘cut my hair like Farrah Fawcett’s’? And then there’s the final insult. My oldest daughter will attest to this. “You look just like your mother.” Poor Kelly. Truth? There’s a resemblance, but I think she gets the dubious distinction because we talk the same way and have similar mannerisms. And meanwhile, every time I look in the mirror now, I see MY mother. And not the pretty young lady she was; I see the elderly grandma who we lost in 2010. In hindsight, I’ll take Barbra Streisand! Until next week . . .