Some of us get it a lot. Others, not so much. And I really never minded when I was younger. People have the urge to label others, and one form of this labeling is comparing you to a celebrity.
“You look like Marilyn Monroe!”
Thank you, that’s what I was going for. Platinum blonde, in my early 20’s, living in New York and pursuing my acting dreams, this was the ultimate compliment. Although one version of this was “a chubby Marilyn Monroe.” I could do without the extra adjective! And I only wish I was as “chubby” at 60, post-menopause, as I was – or wasn’t!- in my 20’s.
Later, in my 30’s I would sometimes get, “You look like Melanie Griffith!” Well, let’s call Antonio; I’d be happy to sub for her. More amusing still, my daughter sometimes gets “You look like Dakota Johnson” – Melanie’s daughter.
But recently I got a real come-uppance. Let me set the scene:
I was at the Charlotte airport, after a delayed flight from Asheville, North Carolina, where I had attended three days of a wonderful yoga festival. I had five classes with my favorite teacher, other classes with newly discovered wonderful instructors, dancing, chanting, and exploring. I was coming down from an incredible yoga high.
It was eleven PM and I was destined to miss my next flight – a short one from Charlotte to Charleston. The airline had already changed me to an early flight the next day. But, as luck would have it, the Charleston flight was also being delayed by weather, so there was a slim chance I might still make it. I got on the standby list and went to the bar. A 40-something blonde was at the barstool next to me. I set my yoga mat down by hers and we began to chat, much to the annoyance of the balding gentleman on her left who had previously been chatting and buying her drinks. Yeah, she was pretty. With tell-tale plumped lips, lash extensions, and just the right amount of makeup, she had not yet espoused my “I don’t give a crap how I look on the airplane” philosophy. Sure, I felt a little frumpy sitting next to her. But no worries. She was super nice, and we discussed the yoga festival while I grumpily paid $30 for a rum and coke.
The announcement came that the flight was cancelled. I resigned myself to sleeping on the floor somewhere and we hopped off our barstools, preparing to part ways. Just then, the cook behind the counter said to her, “Do you know who you look like? Nicole Kidman!” She purred a thank you.
Then he turned to me. Could he not have just stopped there? “And you look like Kathy Bates!” My face flushed. Really, dude? But he continued, “You know, from Misery?”
At this point I wished I had a wood block and a sledgehammer. I’ll show you Misery! Almost in tears, I turned away to trudge through the airport and find a quiet spot. At least I had my mat for cushion.
No offense to Kathy Bates; I’m sure she is a nice person. But she’s no Nicole Kidman. Apparently, neither am I. Goodbye Norma Jean.
Why do people have the urge to do this, especially if it’s not flattering?
I told my daughter the story. She gets compared to Emma Stone almost every time she goes out. There have been hot debates whether she’s more Emma or Dakota. Both are beautiful. She is beautiful. She assured me that I don’t look like Kathy Bates. Even if I no longer look like Marilyn, who died at 36. She never got to be sixty, so we will never know if the comparisons would have kept coming.
“It’s like saying, oh, you look like Brad Pitt!” my daughter chuckled, then pointed to me. “And you look like Danny DeVito!” Then she gave me a hug.
Well, at least I have a fun personality.
Who do you get compared to? Tell me in the comments!
Pre-Existing Condition 