This Is a Little Thing

It started off simple enough. I dyed my hair blonde last January.

Blondes have more fun, right? And my natural color, coppery-red, combined with a tan makes me look like a penny. It’s all one color—head to toe.

Then in November I was shopping with my guy friend.

He said a pair of pants were long enough as he held them near his hips.

My mother’s voice miraculously jumped out of my mouth and said, “they wouldn’t be too short if you wear them where they belong” and pulled them up to his waist.

Then, in December, I was stressing out and heard this voice in my head:

“Jessie, this is a little thing.”

Then Wednesday I got my haircut. My blonde hair. And for the first time, I looked in the mirror and I saw my mother.

Our hair is almost identical now.

Now, I’ve always been told I look a lot like her. Photos of us at different ages are almost indistinguishable.

There’s this stigma that you don’t want to turn into your mother. You see it on TV shows and movies.

So when I first realized it I started to get panicked. Then I realized something: This isn’t a bad thing. This is actually a really good thing.

My mom was pretty. She still is pretty. I hesitate to say “gorgeous” because I’m afraid it will come across conceited now that I’ve compared myself to her. I don't think I'm gorgeous, but I do think my mom is (and none of that “on the inside” stuff). She’s stylin’.

She made it through life on these looks.

So maybe 2012 will be the year I turn into my mother.

That’s a little thing.

It’s a good thing.

I’m lucky to have those genes. They're pre-tested.