My mum and I have tried to avoid looking too similar. She only cut her hair short after I left for the States. I’d change my clothes if we were wearing the same colours. I don’t care anymore. We can wear matching overalls from here on in. I am turning into my mother, at least on the outside, and that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. But it took me a lot to get where I am today. In fact, I went through The Seven Stages of turning into your Mum:

1. Shock and Denial: This can last for the first 18 years of any life. Your body goes through a lot of changes, excuses and pimples so a definitive comparison can be avoided. My nose is bigger. My skin is darker. I like computers.  Anything goes. We’re different, I tell you.
2. Pain: My life is a mess. I’m going to make all the mistakes my Mum made and none of the good stuff. We are one person. I don’t want to make curries for the rest of my life! Babies make me vomit, I don’t want to have four! The life-numbing horror of a predestined future.
3. Anger and Bargaining: Yes, you will hate the parent you look like, even momentarily. Unfortunately for my poor Mother, this lasted seven years. I was a suburban Goth and she put up with the piercings, the eyeliner and blue hair stains, the death metal, the bad men. Then came the barter with my soul. If I get a tattoo then I’m definitely not my Mum. If I cut my hair like a boy’s, then people won’t confuse us from the back. If I talk rough, drink scotch and swear enough, then I’ll walk a different path.

4. Reflection: Most often, this is accompanied with university/college. I am the feminist bitch that will walk in the opposite direction. You can’t control me, I’m too creative. I can change the world with just my thoughts, getting words out there is a lot harder. Stretching my freedom, trying to see how long I can last between phone calls with my Mum. I would say, looking back, that this was detrimental to the both of us.
5. The slight Upward Turn: This is when I started to notice that my love of cooking came from her kitchen, my learned nurturing behaviour comes in handy when helping out friends. I still notice some negative things, like how both of us are incapable of dealing with stress and calculations.
6. Reconstruction: Just because you look like your Mum doesn’t mean you are her. I learn a couple of ways to deal with stress, but more importantly, learn how to deal with that nasty inherited streak of Catholic guilt. Slowly, slowly, colour starts to find it’s way back into my wardrobe and I stop smoking, minimise swearing like a sailor and let go of bad people. Life is looking up and I look more and more like my Mummy dear. We try to talk every couple of days.
My Mum and my Grandmother. Awh!
7. Acceptance: Yes, it is something that I say proudly. I look like my Mum. I don’t act like her, for the majority of the time, and now that I’m at the grand old age of 22 I know I’m leading a completely different life to her own. She was my age when I was born and well, I’m not pregnant so one point for me. I don’t get embarrased when people say we look like sisters, instead I watch her blush with pride. I pack less when I go to her house so I can wear some of her clothes.

Do you think you’re turning out like your folks? Do you like it?