There’s nothing much to report on the baby-making front. We started the new dosages and 3x/week injections on Sunday, and since then, Hubby’s been convinced that he’s having more hot flashes and less hair growth. But it’s only been a couple of days. We probably need to give it more time. Turns out, I also need to give myself more time to learn how to open the old-school glass vials the new meds are packaged in. I sliced my thumb open last night trying to pop the top off one of them.
Since there’s no news, I’m filling my time (and my blog) with more frivolous things, like my own self-image. Not the “oh I’d really like to be a mother one day and until then I feel completely unfulfilled” self-image. I’m talking purely superficial, physical, and vain.
Apparently I have the kind of face that is generic enough that I can look like just about anyone. Okay, a specific type of just about anyone. It started when I was in jr. high. There was one boy who insisted on calling me “Kimmy Gibbler.” If this was his way of flirting with me, he completely missed the mark, as I found her character highly annoying and not in any way cute. In fact, I hated the comparison, and I’m not really sure where it came from, except that I may have had a very similar hairstyle. Cut me some slack. It was 1990. Everybody had those bangs.
Then in college, I made the mistake of telling some of my friends that my older sister had told me I looked like Daryl Hannah. Not the beautiful, sexy Daryl Hannah from Splash. Oh, no. She was very specific when she told me I looked like the awkward, pre-makeover Daryl Hannah from Steel Magnolias. Thanks, sis. But the nickname stuck with me through college. And now it’s followed me here.
Ah, grad school. I was in a program with a bunch of women, but all my good friends were guys. With one of them in particular, I had a semi-flirty relationship. At least I think he was flirting when he told me I looked like Helen Hunt. I did not take this as a compliment. I mean, I admit I have a high forehead, but I like to think of it as supermodel-high, not I-could-write-my-entire-graduate-thesis-on-the-thing-high.
If he had left it at that, I probably would have had to come up with an equally unflattering doppelgänger for him. Fortunately, he redeemed himself when he later said I looked an awful lot like Leelee Sobieski. I’ll take it.
Of course, Hubby vehemently disagrees with all of these comparisons (saying I’m prettier than any of them–untrue, but I love my husband!). I disagree with most of them myself. And I find it a little unfair that my sister, whose genes came from the same pool as mine, often gets favorably compared to Jennifer Aniston and Gisele. Just another of the many differences between us.
So, any other unfortunate celebrity look-alikes out there?