Looking in the mirror sometimes I feel like I have no idea who it is that is looking back. While there seems to be a look behind the eyes that is familier I look at the simalirates from my parents that have somehow found a unification on what seems to be my face. How has this happened and when did it start? Am I going to be the inevetible slogen of "I am my mother, after all" ? I just want to know who is responsible for this disaster...is there a complant department that I can call? I 1-800 number to India where Habib can tell me I can get a refund?  Some nameless face that I can wait in line for, to tell all of my frustrations to, just to be told that I have wasted my time and that no refunds are given after 21 days?

Was there a line in Heaven that I fogot to get in that gave me the option of having diffrent parts for my body? Was the assembly line like a car manufacturer that just randomly adds leather interior to every 5th car threw the line...not that I want a leather interior mind you. Do you think that I was lazy and just got in the express line for 15 items or less and missed out because I put back the skinny waist so I didn't have to go to the regular check out with the longer lines? If that was an option, I probobly didn't even put it away, just hid it under the candy bars next to the register so I didn't have to walk all that way.

Why is it that I feel like I got the short end of the genitic stick? If I really think about it I could have come out worse...after all I do believe that I have more hair than my sibling, and it's not nearly as grey! Things are looking up. lol.