I am not Rebecca Woolf, and I can prove it.
For one thing, her red top is a skillion times more flattering than my red top.
Not that you thought I was Rebecca, of course. But my son, looking over my shoulder at a picture of this gorgeous author on her blog, says, "Mommy, it's you!"
"No, sweetie, that's not me. But thanks!"
This exchange happens at least once a week. For the record, I am also not any of these lovely ladies. Though my son begs to differ.
If I'm perfectly honest, I have no idea what I look like. I never see women who (I think) look like me who aren't also related to me. But it turns out that, according to Westley, my doppelgängers are all on the Internet. And not all of them are bloggers. Some of them are kind of famous. Really.
First off, just as a point of reference, this is me:
It's Noelle, Westley's actual Mommy!
This is NOT me:
It's Westley's favorite, Lady Gaga!
Also not me (though I make this face all the time):
It's Drew Barrymore!
Definitely not me:
It's Jaime Murray!
Still not me:
Still Lady Gaga.
For a non-musician, I do a pretty kick-ass rendition of "If I Had a Hammer," but once again...not me:
It's Mary Travers!
Also not me:
It's Tori Amos (who I feel the need to point out is 20 years older than I am)!
It's Jane Campion (Twenty-nine years older...)!
Does this explain why I never get carded? I look old enough to have had chart hits in the early 1990s with Baroque pop songs?
The real punchline in all of this, as far as I'm concerned, is that with his fondness for not-alike look-alikes, Westley has yet to accidentally call another woman "Mommy." At the rate we're going, it'll happen any day now.