look in the mirror

at some point, it happens to everyone. the day jumps out in front of you like a mosquito as if to say, "hah! you didn't think this would happen, but it did. i'm here to make a liar out of you." and before you could swat the nasty little bugger, it screams those word you loathe to hear: "you have become your mother!"


splat! you squish the little son-of-a-bitch but not before its words have a chance to really sink in. you look over at your mother and realize, wow, you're both sitting with your arms crossed, leaning into the table. hmmm, that's scary. and the more you become aware of it, the scarier it gets, and the more connections you notice and before it's too late, you're suddenly well too aware of what's coming next.

the four o'clock pink my mom suffers with rosacia has already started with me. by the end of the workday, my face takes on the appearance of a healthy 2-martini lunch even if the hardest thing i have imbibed all day is a diet coke.

the other little mannerisms become apparent too, leading me to wonder if looking at my grandmother is just looking into a crystal ball set 50 years into the future, just like looking at my mother's gives me a sneak peak into my future.

either way, goddess help us all.