Maybe It Skips a Generation?

I’ve never really looked like anybody. I could never borrow someone else’s ID in high school or college (so I could rent a floor buffer and similar) because no one very looked vaguely enough like me that a bouncer, sorry, Home Depot rental representative, would ever accept the ID. I also don’t particularly look like any celebrities (which is a mixed blessing. I certainly don’t want to be a dead ringer for Tommy Lee).

There’s even been a fair argument about which side of the family I look like. Then last week, my mom whips out this photo.

Apparently I’m my own grandma.

I know how Fry feels in Roswell That Ends Well.

That’s me on the right if you couldn’t tell by the non-marcelled hair. The woman on the left is my grandmother, Annette Cameron nee Larson. Here I was looking Norwegian the whole time and I never realized it.
Man, they took awesome photos back then. Look at the painted background! Look at that gorgeous cowl neck.

*sigh*

I took mine myself in the bathroom.