Cruel realities of life aside, some gals stomach this fact easier than others. The more baller the woman that spawned you, the easier it is. Before my mother permanently disowns me, let me state for the record she is mostly amazing with only a small number of annoying quirks I wish weren’t hereditary, such as taking an exorbitant amount of time to make decisions on mundane purchases. (She once took 45 minutes to pick out sand paper from Home Depot. Last week it took me 20 minutes to choose pickles at the grocery store. *Sigh.*)
Don’t know where you are on the path to becoming a carbon copy of your matriarch? Luckily, I’ve got a way of figuring it out. While originally used to help terminally ill patients cope with their demise, Dr. Elisabeth’s Kubler-Ross’s 5 stages of dying is perfectly suited for figuring out when you’ll have your “Shit, I’ve become my Mom” epiphany.
Stage 1: Denial
You’re completely ignoring reality. If you say things like “I’ll never tell my daughter her skirt is too short” or “my skin is never going to stretch like a circus tent,” you’re still in Never Never Land, pigs can fly, and unicorns are abundant. For obvious reasons, this phase does not last long.
Stage 2: Anger
Irrationally screaming at your unusually muscular calves because they won’t fit into cute boots? Cursing at yourself that you just told some guy to pull his pants up in a familiar matronly tone? Yup, you’re in the anger phase. Heck, who wouldn’t be angry when you can’t help loving Kenny G or reading smut novels?
Stage 3: Bargaining
Perhaps you just don’t want to bawl your eyes out again during Fancy Feast’s “The Engagement” commercial. Or, maybe you’ll gladly take the kumquat-sized hairy mole as long as it’s not in the middle of your chin. However, while trying to cut a deal with your DNA may seem like a rational and civilized approach to the problem, sadly your genes just aren’t going to buy it.
Stage 4: Depression
Downside: you’re moping and crying because you too will traumatize your children with your off-key singing and dance moves that look like a moose in heat. Upside: this is the perfect excuse for chocolate and a margarita.
Stage 5: Acceptance
Finally, after endless hours, days, weeks, or (for the really late bloomers) years, you make peace with the fact you are not your own person, but rather a clone of the woman who incubated you for 9 months. Really when you think about it, it could be worse. So what that your nipples have and always will face south, natural perkiness beyond your grasp. That’s why we have push-up bras damn it, so every woman can have a killer rack no matter how droopy their ta-tas are.
This Mother’s Day, if you really want to impress your mom, rather than ignore, loathe, dicker, or sob about the eventual downward spiral toward being her identical twin, embrace it. When that Fancy Feast commercial comes on smile as tears run down both your cheeks. Take her out to a Kenny G concert and dance the night away to the harmonies of his un-contemporary adult contemporary music. Don’t try to find extra-extra-wide boots, head over to lingerie and get your ‘girls’ a lift in a pretty color. After all, it’s exactly what you’ll want from your daughter some day too.
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