I was in the middle of a tiling project when my daughter Kate wandered by. "You look just like a villain from Batman," she commented. I pondered that.
Although I'm not a Batman fan, I am crazy-in-love with the beautiful Anne Hathaway, who bears a startling resemblance to my own gorgeous and adorable daughter-in-law Susan. So, of course, the only woman I thought of was Catwoman. I was flattered, but why would anyone compare me to a young, tall, slim brunette? I do totally love her sleek outfit and she is kinda busty. It's a stretch almost beyond imagination, but I was flattered and I'm all about graciously receiving compliments, however ludicrous they are. "Thanks," I said then turned back to my job, still considering how great I would look in Anne's costume.
I'm thinking all kinds of happy thoughts. I just adore over-the-elbow gloves and the mask is cool, too. The hip-hugger belt would probably hide some tummy....
"No, Mom. You really do." Kate asserted. "Let me show you a picture." In seconds, she's turning her cell phone around for me to see. "His name is Bane."
So, my daughter thinks I look like a creepy looking bald guy wearing a muzzle. Hmmm....
It's a huge blow to my ego, but I can sorta see what she means.