Dear Me,
You’re not wrong, no matter what you’re telling yourself. I know you’ve got this vivid picture in your mind of yourself in four years. 17 years old is the Golden Age, or that’s what you tell yourself. She’ll be perfect and flawless. She will be skinnier with post-puberty beauty and guys falling at her feet. You’re not wrong about this picture in your mind. After working for four long years to be this person, you will achieve it—even if it kills you first.
Now, here’s where you are wrong. You are not fat or ugly now. You’re in middle school; you are not supposed to have boys yet. You do not have to stop eating in order to lose weight. You do not have to lie and say you’re not hungry. You do not need pounds of makeup to be adequate. You are beautiful and lovely just the way you are. Put down the brushes and palettes and pick up some books. That’s the real thing that you’ll regret, not reading as much as you could have.
Step off the scale, baby girl. Those numbers don’t define you. You were not made to be in double digits. Weight is just gravity’s effects on your body.
Your GPA is important, but not so much so to stress out about it as much as you do. Your C-average in Algebra will not haunt you for the rest of your life. You do not have to be perfect; do what you can and do it well.
Stop being so insecure and just be social. You don’t have to flirt with anybody; you don’t owe anybody anything. The only thing you owe is to your mother to do your best. Swallow your pride and make some friends. They will pay off in the end, even if they do leave.
Do not waste your life being scared. Fear is natural. Anxiety is natural. Be confident. I know it sounds difficult, but fake it until you make it, baby. If you pretend to be confident, it will slowly become reality, I promise. Go to those auditions with your head high and hope in your eyes. Don’t let anyone take that sparkle from your eyes.
Don’t you dare worry about boys for another second? You are a strong, independent woman who doesn't need no man. I promise, when you make it to where I am, you’ll realize that the right guys will find you. Don’t fret, my dear. There're some really sweet boys in your future. One, in particular, will spend a month chasing after you and the next four months making you happier than you’ve ever been before.
Sweetheart, understand me. Listen to the hope in my voice. Write, my dear, and act. Do what you love. Don’t worry about guys. Don’t step back on that scale. Stop obsessively checking your grades. Your numbers do not define you. The people around you cannot define you. Your past actions do not define you.
Only you can define you. And, here we are. So, allow me a moment to tell you what you are, rather than comparing yourself to what you are not.
You are beautiful, strong, confident, independent, intelligent, friendly, and lovely. Believe me, honey. Everything gets better. Persevere. You will make it to your Golden Age, but why should you have to wait?
I love you now and always,
You
