Day 7: Margaret Atwood and Me

I thought I would write about Gloria Steinem today, but a different woman is on my radar.

In the spirit of Project 68, I am trying to write what presents itself to me each day.

The older I get, the more frequently I am told I look like Margaret Atwood.

At 5’8”, I loom over Atwood, so I’m not quite sure how this works. The first time it happened, I was sitting on a path contemplating life when a woman rode her bike past me. She slammed on her brakes and circled back.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, with a disappointed voice. “I thought you were Margaret Atwood.”

It has happened when I speak as well.

Today it happened at Starbucks.

I was early for a doctor’s appointment, so I stopped in for a tea and some writing time. I had just settled in when a woman came over and told me she simply had to interrupt me to say that she had done a double take when she saw me. She thought she was about to meet Margaret Atwood.

Other than the fact that we are both white women with silver curly hair, I don’t see how I could possibly be mistaken for her.

But I do think she is a Canadian icon, and I have a connection to her in an odd way.

First, my son directed a commercial that starred Margaret Atwood.

And perhaps more significantly, about eight years ago Margaret Atwood spoke at a charity event in my hometown. A friend invited me as her guest, and I was delighted to find myself seated at the same table as Atwood.

I let my friend sit beside her.

So generous of me, I know.

But we had dinner together, and I have a picture of us.

Here it is:

What do you think?

Margaret Atwood is an inspiration to women around the world. And every time someone mistakes me for her, I have an opportunity to tell them about my strange little connection to her—and to gush a little about not only her writing, but the kind of woman she exemplifies.

I recently saw a photograph she posted of herself with crowbar, prying up a stair she was replacing on her porch.

I loved it.

There was something wonderfully unapologetic about it.

Here is this woman in her eighties, still writing, still working, still curious, still making things, still getting on with the business of being alive.

So I hope the next time someone tells me I remind them of Margaret Atwood, it isn't because we both have curly grey hair.

I hope it is because something about me inspires them to live their life more fully.