Finding Your Feet or is it your Face?

I walked four miles today to get my vitals. Oh, you know, the monthly supply of blood pressure pills and assorted others, that keep my coat sleek and my tail wagging.  While on the journey, Son et Lumiere called. So we chatted as he walked to Marlins and I walked to the Chemist, because we are both extremely busy people and can only find time to speak to one another while in transit. Mmm. Familiar?
Anyway, I was doing a damn fine job of talking (not handsfree, because I am not that evolved) and walking up a hill when, suddenly, I exclaimed, as a double-decker bus went past, bearing a large poster of a film called, "Finding Your Feet".
"Are you alright, Mum?" said son-sounding-concerned.
Obviously fearing that I had been felled by aforementioned bus.
"Yes," I replied, "But have you seen that advert of "Finding Your Feet" with Celia Imrie, Joanna Lumley, and Imelda Staunton?"
He hadn't. As you may imagine, a title like that probably has about as much interest for him as reading a Bunion Blog. (Barbed, yes, don't deny it.)
"Well, do you think Celia Imrie looks a bit  like me? I keep on finding it a little disconcerting to see myself on the side of a bus."
"Oh, God," he said. Which is not the sort of thing you wish to hear your hand-reared doctor come out with.
"Do you think it's narcissism?" I asked. I am always quick to self-analyse. To prove that it couldn't possibly be the case in this particular instance.
"At least I'm not kidding myself that I look like Joanna Lumley who is way more glam."I added for reassurance, really.
Yes, he agreed, my narcissism was at least in the moderate category.
For the time being.  Oh Lordy, something else to worry about.

Celia Imrie third from left...not to be confused with yours truly