when i was a kid

i used to think i was adopted. i would spend hours looking at my birth certificate searching for white out, typos, something that would tip me off that it was a fake. i didn't think it was possible that i could truly be related to my parents; adoption had to be the answer.

physically i look nothing like either one of them. my mom is a short, compact, curvy, black haired, brown eyed mexican woman. my dad is a tall, thin, lanky, dirty blond, blue eyed, red skinned [native american indian background] caucasian man.

then there's me:
tall compared to my mother, but short compared to average.

i don't have long legs or a long torso, but i'm not compact the way my mom is either. on a good day, when she's wearing a highly supportive bra, i would say there's about 2" between the girls & her waist - so about as compact as one can get. i remember when i was a little girl & she would help me get dressed & she would pull my pants up, WAY up so they would sit what felt like my throat practically & finally i would yell "you're hurting my peepee" [seriously she was!] my pants so dang high! then she would tell me that's where her waist was [around her throat somewhere, so we're all clear...].

i'm not curvy. i'm getting curvy after having a child, turning 38 years old & finally getting a little meat on my bones. my mom however had curves that would stop traffic when she weighed 100lbs...

my hair is dark brown & my eyes are too, although not as dark as my mom's.

i guess i ended up being a weird mixture of the two.

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lately on our trips to the library Z's been picking out some of the books they have on display. they're appropriate for his reading level, so i don't see the harm, but they're usually books that are a little off the beaten path. a few that he's brought home recently included something along the lines of:

"we just moved"
[we moved 6 months ago, no big deal] then there was:

"my adoptive mommy is the best mommy"
[it's good for him to learn about different family types] but the best one was:

"my parents are getting a divorce"
[which he got when the in-laws were visiting & i'm pretty sure no matter how much i tried explaining Z picked it out by himself, there was nothing behind it, blah, blah, blah, everything is fine with B & I, etc, that yeah, they think something is amiss. such is life].

then Z asked me the other day - am i adopted?