Ways I am just like my mom even though I really don't want to be

Like a lot of my women my age (and that age is 28, of course), I wake up every morning vowing to be nothing like my mother.  Even women who had normal moms do this, but with a mom like mine, it is so important to me that I don’t end up like she did. After all, she is the main reason I have been chasing normal my entire life.

So, every day, I do the things she never did.  I focus on eating healthy foods.  Mom tended to live on cookies, Diet Coke, and frozen meals.  I exercise at least 5 days a week.  Mom HATED to sweat because she had her hair done once a week and then didn’t touch it.  In her defense, her hair was the stuff of curly Brillo nightmares.  I wouldn’t have wanted to wash and dry that hair daily.  Finally, I get out more. I get involved in local groups in activities.  

BUT, as hard as I try to not be like my mom, I am justfuckinglikeher in some ways.  Here they are in no order:

I hate my body.  I’ve always hated it, even when I was a size two.  Just like my mom, I turn sideways and look at myself in the mirror and scowl.  I have her exact short, plump, body.  Most of the girls in our family do.  I know that I’m not the biggest person in the world and that Richard Simmons is not going to cry at my bedside, but unless I have buttloads of plastic surgery, I will never think my body is attractive. 

I dress nicely and put on make-up for salon appointments.  My mom taught me long ago that you shouldn’t show up at the salon sloppy because the hairdresser will think you want to look like that. 

I overtip.  Now, I don’t tip fast food workers, like mom did, mostly because I’m afraid they will get in trouble for having cash in their pockets, but I do tip the hell out of wait staff and salon folks. 

I have a purse full of drugs.  Now, unlike mom, I do NOT have Vicodin in the mix, but I am ready for a sinus headache, gas, diarrhea, acid reflux, dry eyes, a cold, or anything mildly uncomfortable.  Just like mom, I refuse to be uncomfortable.  I don’t see the point. 

I love big dogs.  Now, up until December 2018, I was a solid cat person, but Kira changed me.  Even on her most pain in the ass day (and that just might be today), I love her to pieces.  Mom loved big dogs but could never have one in her tiny apartment.  Also, she was prone to falling and I’m quite sure Kira would have inadvertently killed my mom if she had ever had the pleasure of experiencing Kira’s love.

I’m sure as I get older I will become more like her. I won’t like it, but it is bound to happen. I will continue the good fight, though.