things I wish I'd known

well, it's that time of year again, that special time, when we get talk about how much we love ... me! yes! ME! it's almost my birthday! a day to celebrate! in, like, two weeks! so, to honor that day, and the many years of my life I have already lived, I'd like to send some letters back in time, to myself on past birthdays.
because the internet is full of magic and can time travel.
I hear.
anyway.

dear 3-year-old self,




aww. you're mostly cute, even though you're kind of spoiled and obsessed with princesses. and, yes, it is a total bummer that Dave and Kat want to play with each other and not you, I'm sure that's very difficult; but you should know even when they stop playing with each other, they still won't want to play with you. Give it up now. but, you look like Michael! or, Michael looks like you! good one! How great is that!


affectionately,
you



dear 8-year-old-self,







you can't help the fact that you're at kind of an annoying age, but you could be a little less whiny. Also, be nice to your friends. Also, don't ever perm your hair again. also, please stop being in love with Grant, I swear, by highschool you'll feel really stupid about this.

sincerely,
you



dear thirteen-year-old self,
you are the reason I hope this baby is a boy.
shut up,
you




dear fifteen-year-old self,
listening to Tori Amos and Violent Femmes and writing their lyrics in your notebook is not going to make you deep, nor is it going to make you look deep, nor is it going to make Gabe fall in love with you and write you the very deep (and angsty!and passionate!) notes that you suspect he is capable of. Also, go to school.
honestly,
you





dear seventeen-year-old-self,
eh. you're not so bad, although you do sometimes think you're cooler than you are, and sometimes you're downright strange. but you're also pretty likeable, and at least you can laugh about it, THANK HEAVEN your sense of humour is finally back. I thought teenage us would never end.
fondly,
you




dear 19-year-old-self,
oh my gosh, PLEASE STOP TALKING.
you


dear 20-and-21-year-old-selves,





same for you.


although, you have very nice hair. appreciate that.
and stop wasting time! pick a major!
thanks,
you


dear 22-year-old-self,








what is the matter with you? Give Christofer a break.
and graduate already.
and what did I say about perming your hair! gah!
exasperatedly,
you


dear 23-year-old-self,






I cannot believe you were smart enough to marry Christofer. I'm serious. Considering the idiocy of the past four years alone, I cannot believe you were smart enough to do this.
I'm stunned.
way to go,
you



dear 24-year-old-self,








this was a good year for you. you were very delightful. although, just some mild advice, you really should keep up with your writing contacts. you won't, but you should.
i like you,
you


dear 25-year-old-self,
what can I say? things started out perfectly, then ... you were mostly pregnant. and cranky.
but I understand.
sorry about that,
you


dear 26-year-old-self,
well, we had some laughs, and you shouldn't let you're whole year be colored by the tail end. that is foolishness! Think of the good times! so, goodbye 26, it's been swell.
later,
you


dear 27-year-old-self,








okay, so you're going to be pregnant.
and sick.
and fat.
and cranky.
and did I mention sick?
but, so what, right? I mean, you'll still have lots to enjoy. You're kids are really fun, and you won't be sick forever, chances are at some point you'll be able to enjoy them again. and you'll go on trips. and take pictures. and write stuff.
and that's fun.
so let's move on and have a good year, okay? okay.
looking forward to seeing you (especially if there's cheesecake),
you