My sixteen-year-old self

  A blog that I follow, The Creative Junkie, posted about this a little while ago (in her usual hilarious manner), then another friend of mine, Shawntae, posted about it as well (on her Facebook, not her blog). It's apparently been trending on Twitter, and I thought I'd share mine. You're pretty much just supposed to tell things to your sixteen-year-old self. I thought this could be both pretty funny and maybe poignant. Probably not so much poignant for me, but for someone it may be.

This is me at 16. Good Lord!

Nice bangs.

Here goes:


Your mother is not that bad. Get over it.

Yes, you will get out of that little podunk town.

That guy that you're totally in love with? Yeah, stick with him. He's even greater in 15 years.

You are not fat. Now, in 15 years, it'll be another story.

Hypercolor shirts aren't cool. No they're not.

That Chumbawamba song will be in your head FOREVER. (I get knocked down, but I get up again SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP)

Some of those awesome friends you have right now just won't make the cut.

Get your bachelor's degree out of the way RIGHT after high school. If you don't you'll be in school for the next ten years finishing it. Then you'll go onto your Master's and that'll take years, too. Just do it. (I wish I had taken this advice!)

Those romance novels you insist on reading? Complete drivel. There are so many good books out there your should be spending your time reading!

You know that habit you have of burning something or almost burning down the house every time you cook? It will get better. Much better.

All those baby doll dresses you have? You'll never wear them again.

That Fresh Prince of Bel Aire show you like so much. That guy grows up to be DAMN FINE.

Your sisters aren't that bad. Get over it.

It all ends up pretty good.