Growing up, my sister had mostly different tastes in toys. But every now and then, we did visit “I want too!”-land. It could have been a new gadget, a certain dish at the restaurant, or one simply mimicking the other’s behavior. Inevitably, the copycat would be called out: “You’re just a little imitator!” we would yell. “Nachmacher” in German—”Aftermaker.”
This morning, I felt a sudden urge to make bread rolls in my air fryer. I had a simple recipe on hand, and, to my surprise, I managed to make the dough, knead it, and sit at the kitchen table with four small but good-enough rolls 30 minutes later. My partner was shocked. “You baked these?” It was definitely an unusual move on my end.
After some thinking, I realized what had happened: Having spent 90 minutes watching a great cooking show the day before, I had caught the imitation bug. I may not be able to cook even two percent of the dishes the professional chefs whip up on TV, but I can learn how to make rolls in my air fryer. It’s a tiny, rather pitiful imitation, but it does the job.
In this case, the job was easing some worries I had had at night. Just the usual. Money. Time. The future. And while the saying suggests that “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” when you do it in private and mostly for your own entertainment, imitation can become the self-flattery you need to take back your power. It’s a path to re-establishing control when you feel vulnerable.
You can’t solve all your problems in a day. But you can bake a new dish, sketch a dumbed down version of a famous painting, or learn the lyrics to a song in a foreign language. Not all your creations need to be shared. Sometimes, our weakest are our strongest, because they’re purely for us, no one else.
Every now and then, be a little imitator. If you don’t make a big deal about it, no one will call you out—but your impromptu replication might restore your belief in yourself all the same. Lean on imitation as a source of confidence, then level up from there. Happy aftermaking!
