When the move Father of the Bride was re-made in 1991, I happened to look a lot like Steve Martin’s co-star, Kimberly Williams.
I kid you not, seventeen times per day someone would inevitably say, “Oh my gosh, you look just like that girl on Father of the Bride!”
This isn’t the best photo to illustrate the point, but it’s the only one I have.
By the time Father of the Bride II came out, Kimberly Williams and I had moved along different visual trajectories. She featured soft straight hair and wore a prosthetic belly to make her look like she was going to have a baby. I, on the other hand, still had curly hair, but had gained a considerable amount of weight and looked like I had just eaten a baby. Or four of them.
(OK, my timeline was a little off there, but the point is that nobody ever mentioned the likeness again. And sorry, no pictures are available from that time. I burned them in a small fire; a fire that I used to roast several packages of marshmallows for s’mores that I ate alone in my shame.)
A little over a year ago, when I became addicted to my Chi straightener, I was frequently mistaken for my sister Leslie at family gatherings. (That’s the two of us on the left.)
In fact, Leslie totally got credit for attending two potlucks and one funeral that she was not within 1000 miles of at the time. (You’re welcome, Leslie. Too bad I didn’t have a straightener in junior high, we could have pulled some major hi-jinx at Young Womens activities!)
Of course my dad always thinks I resemble my grandmother, shown below. But I think my niece Whitney is actually her spitting image. (If I was a really good blogger, I would show a split frame comparison of them, but you’ll just have to trust mediocre blogging me.)
These days? Nobody mistakes me for anybody.
Well, except for some mornings, when I walk Christian out to the bus stop sporting bed head, no makeup and large oversized jackets. Occasionally, one of the other parents will cock their head to the side, squint their eyes and politely stop themselves before they complete the thought that—OH MY GOSH, YOU LOOK EXACTLY LIKE—
Yeah, I know. I know.
OK, I’ve shared my colorful past. Now tell me, who have YOU been mistaken for?
