Morphing into My Mom, by Brenda Williamson

I knew the day would come when I'd look old. It started with gray hairs about two years ago. I'd pull, pluck and cut them from everywhere. Yet more spung up and I soon learned to just let it go. Then recently I was looking in the mirror. One of those magnifying ones where you can see every inperfection deep down in the bottom of your pores, and I saw wrinkles.

I saw wrinkles on wrinkles!

It didn't help that I had lost a lot of weight. I knew all along that my quick weight loss plan was going to give me sagging skin. What I didn't expect was to see was my skin, my features, and my very facial structure morph into that of my mother's. She's been dead for about nine months now. Is this a coincidence or is this my inheritence...the legacy of her aged face?

I never thought I looked much like her even though others insisted I did. But seeing her in my reflection is rather nice. It brings to mind memories of my childhood, my adulthood and all the ways in which she touched my life.

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