There Is One Thing Worse Than Turning Into Your Mother
And You Won’t Like Where This is Going
Having begun Sherry McGuinn’s article ‘Women, Are You Turning into Your Mothers?’ I approached it with an air of interest but disconnectedness. She might have been turning into her mother but I sure wasn’t turning into mine. I was my own individual person and there was no one else like me…
She was right, of course, and I was bitterly mistaken.
The further I read, the exclamations from family members and the subconscious copy cat traits Sherry noted, all mirrored my own experiences too closely to deny.
By the end of the article, I recognised with abject horror that not only had I turned into my mother, but somewhere along the line she had turned into me.
Not just any me mind, of course not, fate would not allow for her to have become the wide-eyed me of my late teens, or the slightly wiser me of my mid-twenties. No no, my mother had regressed to the cheeky, sneaky, snarky version of my teenage years that still makes me cringe to think of.
Sat dumbfounded for many minutes at my realisation, I then decided to pinpoint exactly when this Freaky Friday event occurred.
