How I'm Slowly But Surely Becoming My Mother

As I was laying on my couch today stuffing my face with chocolate (it's a Sunday, I can do that), I was watching HGTV and really getting into it. I genuinely felt like I cared about the couple that was faced with a decision, love their old home, or list it and get a new one for their growing family. The show's called Love It or List It, cleverly enough. My mom called me and I told her eagerly that our favorite show was on, and as soon as the words came out of my mouth, it hit me.

What everyone said would eventually happen is true.

I am turning into my momma herself.


I had always denied it would happen. In high school, whenever we had a family gathering, some random relative I never really knew but pretended to would come initiate an extremely awkward conversation with me. Besides grilling me about where I would attend college, these encounters always included some variation of the line "You'll be just like your mother in a few years." I laughed about it. "I'll never be like her, I'll be different." How wrong I was.

The more I thought about it, the more apparent it became. I really am becoming my mother. The shows I watch. The "exercise" I do. The stores I frequent at the mall. The items I purchase. The food I like to cook. It's all the same as my mother.

I told myself I was over thinking it. I was just tripped up on the fact that my life on the weekends revolves around a certain network geared toward the middle aged woman, that's all. But then, a few hours later, my mom's phone rang while she was out of the room. Seeing that it was my aunt calling who my mom was expecting a call from, I answered it.

As I answered the phone with a simple "hello", she started complaining in great detail about my grandmother for about thirty seconds. While she went on and on about how annoyed she was, I was asking myself why I needed to know what my grandma had done. Shouldn't she wait until my mom was on the phone and tell her? Then, I realized. She thought I was my mom.

I all of a sudden blurted out, "I'LL GET MY MOM!" to which my aunt replied, "Oh, sweetie, so sorry, you sounded just like her." I ran into the other room and threw my mom's phone at her. She had a concerned look on her face and asked me if I was feeling well.

Once alone, I collected myself, and stood in front of my 5x magnification make up mirror (a very good investment, I must point out). I examined my face. My pores still looked small. My eyes did not have any wrinkles in their corners. I had no visible laugh lines or other loose skin. I still looked my age. I was still me.

I then noticed how similar my eyes are to my mom's eyes. Nearly identical, actually. I read somewhere recently only 2% of people worldwide have green eyes, and my momma and I both do. Looking at my face as a whole, I realized I truly do resemble my mom more than I had ever realized. Besides the eyes, we have similar noses, lips, and hairlines.

It was at that moment that I decided that turning into my momma may not be that bad of a thing, considering I've been her genetically my whole life for crying out loud. Sure, I may get a kick out of things that my high school age self would have scoffed at, and maybe the things that my mother did that annoyed me so much are now things I do myself, but if I become half the woman my mom is, I'm doing something right.

I'm sure that when I have a daughter of my own one day, she will laugh as everyone tells her that she will become exactly like me. "I'll never be like her," she'll say. "I'll be so different." And then, it'll happen.

She will sit with me and watch home improvement shows. She will get excited by going to the grocery store and cooking a new recipe. She will get tired at 10 PM and turn down a night of partying for a night with wine. She will slowly but surely become me.

Srattiness