Dear Self (Circa 1995)

It is obvious that the frienemies you currently have aren’t really friends at all. Perhaps you are the one they choose to hang around with so they can feel better about themselves. Because, let’s be honest, friends don’t let friends wear dresses resembling hotel curtains adorned with decoration from a tacky 1980’s wedding cake. Friends also don't let you agree to get your hair done by Joanne, a woman in her mid-sixties, in the “Beauty Shop” residing in the basement of her home. Perhaps that is why your hair looks like something a 60 year old woman would have done to her own hair. In her basement. With no lights on. Nary a mirror in sight.

While you aren’t aware of it, you should better appreciate your ability to eat a plethora of junk, avoid any type of physical activity, and maintain a svelte 100 pounds. Although you can’t appreciate it now since you are too entrenched in typical high-school angst, it will be the only time in your life you are afforded such luxury. Yes, you scoff now, but I can assure you that no matter how much you exercise, or how Karen Carpenter your diet, your arms will never again be that skinny. Isn’t that great news?



I know it is annoying, but we also need to talk about the tan. You know how your mother (who knows nothing) tells you daily that you do not need to tan at the electric beach and that doing so is detrimental to your health? Like any other invincible teenager, I know you roll your eyes and emphatically protest about how she can’t POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND just how important that it is. In fact, you might just fall over and die if you aren’t able to achieve such a hideous fake golden tan. However, many years later, you will realize that the maybe she was on to something. The scars left from multiple surgical removals of precancerous cells are so much sexier.

I know that the age gap in siblings isn’t unusual to you, considering that you are 14 years older than your younger brother. However, besides the Duggar’s, the other 99.9% of the world doesn’t automatically assume “siblings” when they see you with your infant brother. So, when you decide to proudly display your photograph with said brother, you look remarkably like a high-schooler who gave birth her sophomore year.

Have fun at the dance.

Self (Circa 2009)