(wo)man in the mirror

i chatted with my mom the other day. she was calling me from the mall and was clearly in the mood to shop.

what size are you now?
i'd rather not say, i said pinching the gut i've accumulated since the wedding and that pesky metabolism-slowing 30th birthday.
but what if i find something cute for you? i'll have to pick it up and i won't know what size to get.

this is probably where i should mention my family's obsession with weight. it's well documented, and frankly, disturbing. my grandmother -- all of 5'2" and 94 years old -- was known to ask everyone how much they weighed until her dying day. i eventually realized i shouldn't feel bad about my weight when being compared to a woman who was losing bone mass daily.

my mother is another one. she's a self-described former "fat kid" and it has played out again and again in her life. she took diet pills while pregnant with my sister and was encouraged by her doctor to gain no more than 10 pounds (this was in 1970, for the curious). a few years ago, she lost 90 (yes, 9-0) pounds with Weight Watchers and she's kept it off since. it was -- and still is -- a huge accomplishment and it really helped her gain (most of) her confidence back. but i digress.

clearly, this was a loaded conversation, as only a mother can create. so i told her my new size to which there wasn't quite an audible gasp but more of a polite pause, followed by you can't weigh that much. that's my size and you don't have my hips.

ok, so besides being told i can't possibly weigh that much, i thought "is she blind?"

anyone who has ever seen my mother and me in the same room knows that i am almost an exact replica of her. a carbon copy, save my aristocratic nose (thanks pops!). i not only have her hips, i also have the same protruding bones in my feet. and, just a reminder, the title of this blog is actually dedicated to some of our other similar parts.

below are some photos for you to judge.

my mom at 18 (with my dad):

me at 18: