Celebrity Skin

So there's a, well, not really a meme, but a nifty little gadget-y thing going around wherein you plug in your picture, and some sort of face recognition software comes up with your celebrity look-alikes. Here, see, Bub&Pie got a nice selection of people she can officially say she looks like now. Someone else I know got about 7, most of them flattering, though one or two not.

So, game for a meme and sorta curious, I uploaded a photo, since I had just made Misterpie take one after discovering I only had one measly photo of myself alone in the past many years, and it sucked.

Now, I'm one of those people who is constantly approached on the street by people asking if I have a sister. (Yes, I do, and no, she's not whoever you are thinking of because you'd never pick us out as sisters unless you knew what to look for.) So apparently I look like lots of people out there. Random people, though. But people don't ever mistake me for someone famous. They have a hard time choosing the actress who would play me in the movie of (our school, our library, my life, whatever). So here was my chance to find out who I looked like. Somebody famous.

Or not. Apparently, there were no matches! Seriously. I can't even take this to mean that I am highly, uniquely, interestingly different because, what with all those people stopping me on the street, apparently I look like lots of people, just no one you would know. I'm not sure how to take this.

My relationship with my face thus far has been sort of a matter of enh, whatever. I'm not bad-looking, not great-looking. A little too victorian, a little too china-doll sweet to be fashionable. But okay, good enough for me to pass as on the pretty side, but certainly nothing special. Not really memorable, I would estimate. I do my best with what I've got, you know? I think most of us are that way.

Not that my best is great. I am not skilled in the arts of hair and makeup by any stretch, but most days, I think I pull off looking acceptable before I leave the house, with the help of a couple dots of concealer if I need any (that week of the month where there is nothing to do but heave a sigh and try to cover the spots, for example), some chapstick, and a brush and hairclip. It's not a great look, I sure am not setting the world on fire, but it gets me out the door.

I would have to guess that, by symptomatic evidence alone, I am reasonably accepting or comfortable with how I look, because I don't fuss. Once I leave the door, it is only on a rare day that I even look in a mirror again before the bedtime facewash. Occasionally, I catch sight of myself in a bathroom mirror and just make sure my hair is not too wild (a lost cause at any rate) and make note that I really should get in the habit some day of putting on lip gloss after my coffee. Not that I ever remember to do that. I'm busy, you know?

I guess this says to me that despite making a point of having cute shoes and trying to dress decently and paying attention to getting my hair cut and brushing it, despite putting on eye cream and having a plastic surgeon cut a strange discoloured spot out of my nose a few years back, I don't really put a lot of emphasis on looking perfect. If I cared a lot, if it was more of a priority, I would make the time, right? I would straighten my unruly mop, put some mascara on to darken and show up my lashes, put on that lip gloss? I suppose it means I think what I'm working is good enough to get me by.

Still, much as it seems to me that my caring what I look like is sort of spotty and limited, I'm not thrilled to see that I don't look like anyone. It sure would have been nice to look like someone known for their loveliness. So I'm a little envious of B&P and her lovely look-alike ladies. Lucky wench.

What about you? Do you look like anyone? How much do you care about your outward self?