I was lifeguarding a birthday party this weekend for a girl who had just turned 13. During the party setup, I watched her nervously pace and speedily glance at the door, praying a friend would show up. Slowly, but surely, they did. As the middle schoolers wandered in, each with their own insecure swagger, I began to reflect about my own middle school experience.

My co-worker and I had a good laugh people-watching this event. With expert skill, we identified the "cool kids," the future pretty boys and pretty girls and the girls who would struggle with their self-image. As I watched these 12 and 13 year olds splash around the pool, semi-flirting with one another and stealing glances at each others' developing bodies, it brought me back to pool parties of my own in the early 2000s. I remember nervously wondering if the bathing suit I was wearing made me look "sexy" or if the boy I was interested in would be attending and, if so, he would finally notice me (spoiler alert: he didn't).

I've said for years that I don't trust people who had an easy middle school experience. Maybe it's because my own middle experience was so tumultuous. Not even considering the absolute insanity that was going on behind closed doors that would spur the beginning of the end of my parents' marriage, I was not a cool kid. I had glasses, braces, acne and a penchant for putting my foot in my mouth. I weighed about 90 lbs soaking wet. I was too sheltered, too smart and too socially awkward. I over-edited all my photos on Picnic (an antiquated photo editing app circa 2009, for those of you who weren't fortunate enough to have the Picnic experience).

I went to Catholic school so, thankfully, I was not able to select my own wardrobe for school. However, this did not stop me from wearing wild, colorful accessories and hideous, chunky bracelets. On the weekends, I wore t-shirts with ironic sayings, push up bras to show off my A cups, and knee-length khakis. I cringe just thinking of my fashion choices.

I'm 22 years old now. I'm about to graduate from Jacksonville University with two bachelors degrees: one in psychology and the other in sociology. I've had my braces off for years, my skin has cleared up, and I am finally at a weight that allows me to feel comfortable in my own skin. Some days I miss being too sheltered. Sometimes I'm still "too smart," foot-in-mouth is still a medical condition I regularly experience, and I use subtle editing on most selfies. But what's important is that, nearly ten years later, I love myself. I rarely wear bras, dress in ways that make me feel happy and sexy and have my hair cut buzzed and dyed black. It's been a hard road, but I love myself.

If I could go back ten years and talk to middle school Kelsey, I'm not sure I'd give her a makeover. I'm not sure I'd tell her to ignore the boy or to toss away her push-up bras. I wouldn't tell her everything will work out okay or that things would get better; I'm not sure if they will yet.

I think I'd let her wrap her skinny arms around me and give her a hug. I'd encourage her to be herself and to let herself grow into the woman she deserved to be. I'd encourage her to embrace her weirdness and her penchant for helping others. I'd give her the self-love that she deserved.

Although I'd never in a million years go back to middle school, I wouldn't change 12-year-old Kelsey for the world.