I Love Resembling My Mother— And Not For The Reasons You’d Think

Ever since I can remember, I have been told that I look just like my mother. She’s 29 years older than me, we both have brown hair and eyes, and we both look ridiculously Scandinavian (except the dark hair and eyes bit). We’re about the same height, but that’s where the resemblance stops. We’re both heavy, sure, but her boobs are huge, and I’m pretty flat chested. I have a butt and she has none, she has skinny legs and my legs clap and make thunder.

You’d never be able to tell we’re related. Ever.

It’s just how genetics are cruel. God gave my shy, quiet mom huge boobs when she wanted no attention, and I was given a flat chest and huge thighs when I’m social.

Thanks God. You totally destroyed my ability to date until I was 20 years old.

Moving on.

But nobody can deny that I look like my mother.

And I used to hate it.

I would always fight that we didn’t look alike because she’s way older than I am. And she’s so much quieter than I am. And any other reason I could think of that I can’t think of because they don’t exist.

But as I’ve gotten older and more brazen thanks to my many years of living among my strange Alaskans, I’ve come to embrace the fact that my mother and I look alike.

Because I can embarrass the shit out of her.

And she can’t deny that I’m related to her.

So, of course, I take full advantage of this when the opportunity presents itself.

You see, my mother is very easily embarrassed. She gets embarrassed when we talk too loudly in restaurants, or if we say a bad word. She’s not nearly as bad as she used to be, but she used to freak out if we said “damn” in public.

Now, I’ve mentioned how odd my husband is before considering he’s a dungeon master, he’s very loud and goofy, and he seeks to make people laugh at every turn. He was also raised by East Coast parents, and I don’t care if it’s stereotyping, they’re very noisy. But in a good way.

And my husband loves to point out random discrepancies in public. Because he’s an asshole like that.

So the first time Alex came with me to Minnesota, my mom ditched us in Target. Not as in drove off, mind you, as in she did what she always does. She tells us to find something in the aisle she just passed and then learns how to magically fucking teleport to the other side of the store and makes it impossible to fucking find her until a half hour later.

She does this every fucking time. (I know you’re reading this mom, don’t even try to deny it. You have teleportation powers)

However, last time she tried to do this to Alex and I, we decided to have fun with it. She did her usual “Oh, can you go back one aisle and get something I have in my cart already but it’s the name brand and I need the off brand because I’m a thrifty saver/wizard?” And we agree because we’re good kids.

And she ditched us.

And she was our ride.

So, being the oddballs that we are, we did the most obvious thing we could think of.

We ran up and down every aisle in the store and started screaming “MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!”

Now, when a 22 and a 27 year old are doing this when looking for a woman in her early 50s, I’m told that it’s horribly embarrassing. I thought it was hilarious.

After going down about six aisles, my mother magically teleported behind us and hissed, “What? What do you want?!”

To which we rejoiced because we finally found her. And nobody could deny I was related to her because we look alike.

Authors note: This story is slightly hyperbolic. My mom can’t actually teleport (I think) and we weren’t “screaming” per se, we were just talking ridiculously loudly so everyone was looking at us funny. But she did hiss at us. And she does ditch us in the store all the time. And this story is not to show that my mom is easily embarrassed, she’s pretty awesome and she’ll probably tease me for writing something so ridiculously stupid.  YAY MOMS!

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14 thoughts on “I Love Resembling My Mother— And Not For The Reasons You’d Think

      • Yes, indeed. If the store employees will let you do it, make sure it sounds like an old radio play. Or say, “We have a Code Mom in Aisle (insert aisle number here)”. Make sure you use melodramatic or goofy voices.

      • Thank you! It comes from telephone phobia– I’ve had at least two people in my church congregation ask me if they were talking to a recording. When Cimmy called me this morning and I didn’t get to it immediately, I said, “You’ve reached the real Jonathan Pratt…” because the answering machine picked up first with me saying “You’ve reached the Pratts…”

        I’ve also got some blog posts that featured some SoundCloud-based podcasts I recorded. So much fun.

      • Hahaha. I have a phone phobia too, but mine is finally getting better. my issue with the phone is that I get so nervous if I don’t know the person on the other end. I end up pretty shaky. But I love the recording thing, that’s too funny.

      • Yeah, it was much like that for me, too. I memorized a lot of scripts and worked on an announcer’s voice so that people couldn’t tell how terrified I was.

        It helps, too, that we all seem to have a talent for voice acting, so we all have fun on answering machine recordings. Cimmy spoofed Marzipan’s Answering Machine (from Homestar Runner.com) and my own family didn’t know that was her! Another recent message I did with Cimmy was a parody of the movie Conan the Barbarian:

        CIMMORENE: Conan, what is best in life?
        JAKLUMEN: To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to leave a message after the beep.
        *BEEP*

  1. Haha! Okay, first, this: “as I’ve gotten older and more brazen” is the best start to any sentence ever. AND I love your problem solving skills for locating the Mom, may she fear your screams forever.

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