I have a familiar face, and it makes me a little crazy.
Okay, truth? It makes me a lot crazy.
I’ll meet someone for the first time and they’ll say, “Oh, I’m sure we’ve been introduced before, you look so familiar! Do your kids go to School X?” (Unless they allow dogs, that’s a no.)
“Are you related to Person X?” (Nope.)
“Do you work out at Fitness X?” (My gym is an ultra-exclusive joint in my basement, so no. And by that I mean it’s a dank cell that no one would want use but me.)
I swear to you, Stranger, we’ve never met, it’s just that I have features that are arranged in such a way that make me look like 95% of the other brown-haired ladies out there. My face is basic af, I guess.
I actually remember the day this “you look familiar” stuff started … I was 13 and on a family vacation in Hawaii. A street vendor said I looked like Kristy McNichol and it’s been all downhill since then.
Not only do I look like a few billion random relatives and friends (someone once told me I looked like their sister-in-law named “Chi-Chi”) I also resemble a bizarre variety of minor celebrities and pitchwomen.
When I had sort hair I was Katie Couric’s doppleganger (The hair was similar, but the face? Nah.):
Then when the movie “Bedazzled” came out in 2000 I was pegged as Frances O’Connor. It ramped up again when she starred in Mr. Selfridge a few years ago:
Quite a few people have said I look like the Wendy’s chick (I don’t see it at all.):
Holly Taylor from The Americans is a new one. (C’mon, she’s 12 years old!):
And lately, Kimmy Schmidt. (What is it with me and redheads?)
There’s a part of me that wishes that I didn’t have such an “everywoman” face. That I wouldn’t have to keep saying, “No, we haven’t met, I just look familiar.”
I guess if this mug makes people feel like they already know me it means that they’ll feel comfortable around me quicker, and that’s always a good thing, right?
(But I swear we’ve never met before, okay?)