At age 33, I became a mother to the girl standing next to me.
Since I got to know Joy last fall, and started going places together, many have mistaken me for her mother. Like when we go to SCAD functions, the security guard at the door would often ask if I were her mother.
Then the other day, we
were at Tybee Island enjoying a social nights out with all the home group's families and children. A friend's teenaged son asked her innocently, "Where's your mum?", to which she replied quizzically, "Who? My mum's not in America."Turned out he meant to ask her where I was.
I told her the boy was probably hitting on her with the most popular opening liner for teenagers, "Where's your mum?".I choose to believe that the muddled identities were because Joy looked too young, and that surely, it was not a reflection of my youth, or maturity, in this case, which I reluctantly add. Moreover, the more I look at our pics, the more I see some similar features, like our noses have the same sharp angles and our smiles were of the same cheer.
Steph said we have the same chub on our cheeks, I wasn't sure if I was happy to hear that, and I'm sure Joy would not appreciate the comment. Still, perhaps when she slims down, we'll look less like each other.
