I am starting to look like my father

I am now the age I best remember him: about the time I left home. He'd given up by then: he knew there were no more prospects in his professional life, yet he had to slog out with the job on account of wife and kids; he'd been sentenced to hard labor; there were twenty more years of that ahead of him; there would be no romance in his life anymore; worse, he'd stopped reading and thinking and gone into sleeping on the couch, in front of the TV. I think he must have been clinically depressed.

Looking in the mirror I see him: the same progressive broadening of the face, the same baldness. I can try to control my weight through diet; and exercise (a little, so as not to interfere with my reading time too much) to stay fit; but there is nothing I can do about the genetic inheritance: the package that continues to unfold. I am not happy about it. I am gradually assuming the looks of the person I least wish to see.

A special case of Reverse-Dorian-Grey syndrome.