People tell me I look like Helena Bonham Carter.
That would be well and fine, I suppose, but then they clarify that they mean Helena Bonham Carter as Bellatrix Lestrange. So what they really seem to be saying is that I remind them of an insane serial killer, which makes me want to lean forward and hiss at them, “Well then maybe you shouldn’t be annoying me,” possibly while waving a pen as a wand and hissing curses.
Nodding and smiling is a more practical plan.
One of the women in the locker room yesterday was leaning more towards “Fight Club Helena,” as she kept calling her, but the others out-voted her. Fight Club Helena?
At least no one was voting for “Planet of the Apes Helena,” right? Then they clarified that I’m “the small version.” I didn’t know what that meant ’til I looked it up. Helena Bonham Carter appears to be carrying Rosemary’s baby. She is hugely pregnant. Makes much more sense now.
On a related note, I finally saw my doppleganger in the neighborhood. I’ve met all kinds of people lately who walk up and start yapping at me only to realize I’m not who I thought. I could actually see enough of a resemblance to make it vaguely odd but nothing spooky or that would be fun at parties. I do have an identical cousin living in San Francisco (though neither of us has any special feelings for hot dogs.)