The Doppelganger Effect

Most people are told at some point in their lives that they look like someone else. I guess there are just so many combinations nature can make before, inevitably, some people share similarities in the way they look.

In my twenties, people told me that I looked like Julia Roberts. I didn't really, but I had big curly hair, a giant mouth, and I was skinny. That's enough for most people.

In my thirties, that all changed. I morphed from Julia Roberts into Tina Fey or Sarah Palin, depending on who you ask. When someone says, "Do you know who you look like?" I can count on the fact that it will always be one of the two. I get this comparison at least once a month.

My husband, on the other hand, gets comments on the daily about his doppelganger. Anytime we leave the house and go in public, some stranger will stop in their tracks and proclaim, "Oh my God! Has anyone ever told you that you look JUST LIKE Ben Affleck?!" My husband's answer varies from, "Wow, no I've never heard that one" to "Every. Time. I. Leave. The. House." But his never changes. He has never morphed from one look to another. It's always the same observation, which I'm completely jealous of, because now I've taken another turn. An ominous turn.

Recently I was at Home Depot and accidentally pulled out in front of a vato gentlemen who didn't appreciate my fopaux. As he was flipping me the bird, he yelled out, "Watch where you're going, you Temple Grandin lookin' motherfucker!"

Temple. Grandin. I'm sure she's a nice lady. She's nice to horses. She's a fancy dresser. But c'mon vato. How did I start out Julia Roberts and end up Temple Grandin in only a few short years? Let's just watch the evolution, shall we?

Yeah. The new me.

Yeah. The new me.