Thanks for seein' about a girl, friend. here's where I'm writing my own history—for you, for me and anyone else who needs to laugh to keep from cryin' every once in awhile.

Me, myself, I look like ...

Forget "Mirror, mirror on the wall!" It's all about these www.myheritage.com morphs. Total non-stop fun for me, even if I'm not the fairest one of all. 

(In fact, nothing about me is fair. Or fraulein. Or too feminine.)

Initially you can imagine my disdain and surprise when I realized that I look like a man. But several men? Interesting.

(I'd also like to point out that you can submit the same picture everyday and get different results -- because initially Michael Jordan and I were in the 70 percentile. I always thought he was fine, but geesh. I don't want to be the man. )

Maybe my mustache is more apparent than I initially thought. Why didn't y'all tell me? I thought that's what friends were for.

So I thought I'd try a different approach. Prolly shouldn't have done that. Look.

Franz Lehár? 

"Who that scary lookin' German man?!" was my initial thought. He died the year my mother was born, perhaps, but not really, giving further credence to my old souledness. He was an Austrian composer of Hungarian descent known mainly for his operettas -- his most famous being The Merry Widow. Well good for him. Does this mean that's what my eyebrows are gonna look like in a few more years?

For the most part, I was pleased with the females represented. I thought Celine Dion was a stretch. I keep staring at our faces trying to figure that one out. All her features are so sharp and pointed. I feel there's nothing sharp on me. My incisors aren't even that sharp.

I look like Shirley Manson does in her picture every morning when I inspect my face. Awesome.

Tim Curry and I share the same natural arch in our brows I feel ... and I think it's funny that the one pic of Cameron Diaz looks like a celebrity mug shot sort of photo. So I guess her worst day could be one of my best?

Of course, I know what you're all thinking about -- or not even thinking -- you're probably actually physically snorting about it. 

Could it be?

Is Danita Strom Thurmond's great-great-grandchild? I haven't yet started seriously trying to get to the bottom of this, but let's connect some of the dots ...

Strom did have that "lovechild" Essie Mae Washington-Williams and she does strongly favor some of my older family members ... and Williams is my mama's maiden name ... and I am from South Carolina.

But ... do I seriously have jowls?

I know I'm a bag of contradictions, but this has opened up a serious can of questions. 

How are we alike? The only thing I think we could possibly share, besides our common home state, is a predilection for miscegenation ... perhaps?

Because if there's one person in my family who's pegged to bring home the one-of-these-boys-is-not-like-the-others, it's me.

Seriously though. I'm looking deeper. 

(Pondering hard with my finger to my chin.)

Is a switch to the Republican party in my future? Am I secretly a segregationist?  

(The initial snap back response to that is a firm, "Hell naw!" However, remember that Condi is my top look-alike, and I do find her personally intriguing ... but still.)

And I do have that Daughters of the American Revolution pin from 8th grade. Those are some genteel, selective ladies, too. My mama was like, "Child, just accept the certificate and leave that alone. I don't think that's the "club" for you." Is it bad that I can whistle/hum "Dixie?" That I like me some "Sweet Home Alabama," particularly that opening riff? (It takes me right back to Class Day. It's not the senior slide show without that song, honest.) I know it's awful to admit that yes, Maurice's mustard BBQ sauce is damn tasty. Do I agree or disagree with Affirmative Action? A toughie, and a topic for some other time ... preferably over coffee -- with lots of cream, please. How do I not know that at some point I greatly benefited from the policy? Is my token black girl status now tarnished?

At any rate, I guess I'll remove the sheets from the closet formerly reserved for my so-called skeletons.

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