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Seize the Day! Letter to My Younger Self

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Dear Younger Self,

It’s hard to write a letter to you, because I think my current version needs an Older Me to guide me and bathe me in her wisdom?assuming she has some. I’ll certainly give this advice thing my best shot, but as they say (who are “they,” anyway?), take it with a grain of salt.


1. When a man poops openly with the door open while you’re at his apartment on date number four, do not marry him. Do not even finish the date with him. At this point in your life, you think it’s very evolved of him to be uninhibited about his bodily functions, but let me tell you, Younger Me, it’s not evolved?it’s just plain weird.


2. Seeing Destin, Florida, is not seeing the world. Who told you that you had to figure out your career at twenty-one? Oh, right … your parents. Love them, but they were wrong about that. Go places. Do things. Meet people. Make a career out of it if you can. Because otherwise, you’re going to be sitting at a desk all day with only fifteen days a year to satisfy your wanderlust. So go?maybe to Thailand first?and lick some lemon off one of those hot, traveling Aussies’ asses, then do a shot of tequila and jump off some crazy-high cliff into the clear blue water, just like Leo DiCaprio did in The Beach. It will make you smile one day when you’re sitting under fluorescent office lighting.


3. Keep practicing your French. And your French kissing. Or maybe learn a new language. One day, you might want to bug out to a different country, and you’ll be a lot more marketable if you can actually speak a language other than Southern high-school Frainch.


4. Doritos and French onion dip are the devil. Just like the one all those Southern Baptist preachers warned you about. I know, they taste so good when they hit your lips, but your body hurts after eating them. And one day, you’ll accidentally fart in an elevator in front of a complete stranger. You’ll be mortified and it will smell bad, Younger Me. No amount of junk-food pleasure is worth that embarrassment. On that note …


5. You’re not fat. Well, actually, sometimes you sort of are so do something about it when you chunk up! Start exercising regularly now, instead of waiting ten more years; you’ll feel so much better about yourself and have so much more confidence. You could use a little. Which makes me feel really bad about saying this …




6. That bob haircut makes you look like a soccer mom, not a fresh twentysomething who should be out meeting and making out with hot guys and letting them grope your breasts. Seriously, Younger Me. That’s a really bad look.


7. Channel Stuart Smalley. You’re good enough, you’re smart enough, and doggone it, people really do like you. Stop worrying so much about what other people think, because they aren’t thinking about you nearly as much as you worry they are. Everyone has his or her own shit to deal with, so just be yourself and do your thing.


8. Tell the people who matter that they matter, and tell them all the time. You’re decent at this, Younger Me, but do it a little more. Because when the day comes when they’re not around anymore (and it’s coming), you’ll always replay the last conversation you had with them, so make sure it’s a good one.


9. Carpe diem. Like, really seize it. Grab that day by the balls and don’t let go. Just go for it, Younger Me! With a man, that is. You never go for it. Ever. What are you so afraid of? If you’re not careful, you’ll marry the inappropriate pooper and spend most of your thirties reeling from a divorce. The Beatles weren’t wrong; all you need is love. Now go show off your midriff (but please tone it up first) in something tight and pleather.


Lots of love to you, hot stuff.


Me


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