Ever been told you have a twin? I have. A lot. And the faces to which I’m compared are usually famous ones to which I see little or no resemblance. Case in point: Janet Jackson? I’ve never gotten that one. I lack something there, but I just can’t quite put my finger on it.
And then there are the non-famous faces … like “that girl who sat behind me in Algebra class who always wore the Nirvana t-shirt with the big rip in the sleeve.” I never make their acquaintance and thus never get the chance to see how I really measure up to these poor souls.
Until now.
A writing friend of mine (Hi, JD!) recently sent me a picture … a video really … of an event that took place in San Diego a year ago. She was surprised to see me there. And so was I. Because I wasn’t.
What do you think?
I attempted (somewhat lazily) to replicate the picture for dramatic effect.
After getting over the initial humor of the similarity (my son laughed OUT LOUD for ten minutes), I suddenly started to worry that maybe she was my evil twin. Or … even worse … maybe I’m the evil twin. (Although I almost never wear an eye patch and I haven’t used my freezing death ray in years.) I’ll bet she’s got better shoes. And she’s probably multi-lingual.
Do y’all think we could switch out lives like in The Parent Trap? Maybe I should be calling Lifetime to pitch an idea for The New Patty Duke Show. Except we wouldn’t call it The Patty Duke Show because that would be stupid. Oooh! Unless we could get Patty Duke to sign on as our Executive Producer … or maybe she could play our wisecracking old landlord.
The possibilities are endless. I’d better get right on it ….
OldDogNewTits 