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You Know Who You Look Like?
In my twenties, there were three celebrities I supposedly resembled. Actor Michael Douglas, comedian Richard Lewis and Bono. I never knew how to accept these feigned complements. Should I say thank you? Should I thank my parents for their genetic contributions? Should I tell someone to “eff off” when comparing me to an ugly mug?
“You look like…” is an awful way to start a relationship. It’s wasted language, an odious comparison that means nothing. So what if you resemble a dead actor. Does this have any bearing on your character? What are you supposed to do with this information?
When I was a boy, thoughtless adults compared me to 1930s performer Jimmy Durante. I looked nothing like Durante. Our only commonality was a large nose. Hearing a neighbor ask, “What’s up Durante?” always hurt my feelings and made me feel insecure.
In my early teens, the big-schnoz aspersions became more general. “You look like you’re from New York,” someone would say. In other words, you have a big nose so you must be Jewish so you must be from New York where all the big-nosed Jews live (aka “Jew York”).
