« In Which We Begin To Conflate Our Identity »

Liza with a Z

by ELIZABETH BARBEE   

I am prone to self-pity. The smallest things make me question my worth: a torn stocking, a bad picture, an angry driver flipping me the bird. I am particularly sensitive to comments about my physical appearance, even when they are not blatantly malicious. Over the course of my life, at least 30 people, most of them strangers, have told me that I look like Liza Minnelli. When a conversation turns in this direction, I end it as quickly as possible and find a quiet corner in which to weep.

I recently shared my distress with my therapist, and he encouraged me to fight back. “When people hurt you,” he said, “let them know.” It seemed so simple.

We spent the rest of our session brainstorming comebacks. Most of my ideas were passive aggressive. “Maybe I could liken the perpetrator to Barry Manilow,” I suggested. When he said this was not a good approach, that it would make me seem hostile, I decided it might be best to offer a polite correction. “I could say, 'Actually I look like Edie Sedgwick.'” He laughed as if I were joking.

My mother came close to convincing me that being compared to Liza wasn't an insult. “She doesn't do it for me either, but a lot of people feel differently,” she said, “In the 80s, she was at the top of People magazine's 'Most Beautiful' list!” There is no evidence of this on the Internet, but there are a few pictures of Liza from that era that aren't too freakish.

Her album covers are usually flattering. At times, she even teeters on pretty (see the photo accompanying "Love Pains.") Just as I was coming around, I sat down to watch the 2014 Oscars.

Ellen DeGeneres was on a terror at the Academy Awards. Most of her jokes were funny because they were cruel. She poked at June Squibb's age and Jennifer Lawrence's clumsiness. Pretty standard comedic procedure, but I was in no mood for it. When the camera zoomed to my unfortunate doppelganger, I considered turning off the TV, but some perverse impulse kept me watching. “Hello to the best Liza Minnelli impersonator I've ever seen,” DeGeneres quipped, “Good job, sir.” It felt like a personal affront. Though I once thought them brilliant, I will never speak fondly of those CoverGirl ads featuring Ellen again. That will show her.

Part of the reason I take the comparison to Minnelli so hard is because I agree with it fully. Some comments you can brush off, but others hold too much truth. Liza and I have the same haircut, the same name, the same cartoonish features.

Because of the remarkable similarities between us, I have begun to conflate our identities. When I look in the mirror, I see her face. That is why I feel comfortable analyzing her flaws in such detail. I am not being critical of her so much as I am being self-deprecating, charmingly humble. Maybe I would have more confidence if I thought confidence were a desirable thing. In my experience, it is usually indicative of a lack of depth and self-reflection. I would have lunch with someone who thinks he looks like Lyle Lovett over someone who thinks he looks like Channing Tatum any day of the week.

Elizabeth Barbee is the senior contributor to This Recording. She is a writer living in Dallas. She last wrote in these pages about her efficiency apartment. You can find an archive of her writing on This Recording here.

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