Dear 18 year old self…

Dear 18 year old self…

Hey, FOLKS.  That is such a formal phrase. You’re SO in luck this evening.  Actually, you must be extremely bored and have drool rolling down the side of your mouth.  Anyhoo! I (and when I say “I,” I mean all of us bloggers – not just me because that would’ve been very odd) have been challenged by HypeOrlando for their Blogapalooz-hour to blog about the aforementioned topic. That’s one of my favorite phrases ever.   Aforementioned. It’s more of a word than a phrase. I say it when I’m trying to stall. Or when I’m trying to sound smart, or think of blog topics. So, each month we get our topic and have one hour to write about and it has to be done STAT!  An hour to get this ball rolling, and I screw it up every time, so let’s get to steppin….

Okay, so I do have some, or maybe a ton of advice for my sorry, immature, bad-decision makin,’ no time respecting, no money saving, bad boyfriend havin’ 18 year old self.

  • Ok, so the first piece of advice is: Who cares!  That’s right!  The biggest piece of the advice I would give myself at 18 years old would be WHO FREAKING CARES! Boyfriends (or even rude, mean girl “frenemy” beyotches) at that age = they don’t matter.  Every now and again you hear a crazy, off-the-wall story about “high school sweethearts,” (excuse me, I just had to wash the vile backwash out of my burning esophagus) that has actually lasted. I mean, it happens. I’m glad it didn’t happen to me, but it happens. Baby Jesus only knows what kind of wretched circumstances I would have found myself in this very second if I would have made that heinous decision, but that I do applaud myself for. Yay to us. One smart decision I made at that age. Props to me for not getting hitched when I was still a mere fetus. But, this posting is not to pat myself on my young, emaciated back, it is to render advice to someone who took life WAY too seriously.  You got way too bent up about a few of the friends that I had and guys that I dated, and to that I say: who. cares.

 

I am thoroughly disgusted
I am thoroughly disgusted
  • The one thing I do truly wish I could go back and give myself some solid advice for would be to “STRAIGHTEN UP YOUR FREAKING act and do better in school, you IDIOT.”  That’s the one regret that I do have. HOWEVER, if it would have made the stars align differently, and I would have never met and married who I did, and had the beautiful children that I had, then I am out. I am definitely not interested in changing fate. But, I do not think that would have played a huge difference in the way things turned out, and definitely hands down would have still made the marriage and children decisions (oh yeah-uh!!) no doubt, but I do really wish I would have made wiser choices regarding my irresponsibility in school. My immaturity and things that I took for granted make me want to hurl things at my skinny, flat ab-bed 18 year old dumbass self.  The fact that school is so hard for me to come by these days, and the fact that I pissed it away when I was young when I had the opportunity to attend, really grabs a hold of my gizzard, and not in a good way.  What a downer.

 

  • Now that I am in a notoriously swell mood – let’s talk about laughter! Because I have wasted one too many frowns, and maybe tears on all of the WRONG people in my youthful stages in life. Looking back, I could just slap my skinny, young little cankle-less firm butt cheeks and grab a hold of those waif like shoulders and shake the shit out of myself. “WHY?”  “Who cares!”  They are not worth it!  Laugh. LAUGH! Have fun! Oh, and wear your swimsuit EVERY where you go.  Because, one day you will find yourself on vacation, with your family, with 20 something youths philandering every which way, wondering why your ankles and the tops of your thighs are exactly the same size.

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  • Also, look 18 year old self:  You are not stupid, lazy, crazy, idiotic or selfish.  You have a neurological imbalance called Severe Immaturity Syndrome. Joking. You have ADD.  So stop questioning your brainwaves every second of the day. It sucks, but life could be worse. Bam.Stop stressing, and breathe. Keep your chin up because you are going to take a lot of verbal beatings, some from others, but mostly from yourself. Lastly – just relax.  There are so many things in life that you were afraid to do. Anxiety played a huge part in a lot of these things, but a fear of always looking stupid, or being self conscious was always staring down your neck. I really also would love to tell you to relax and not shive a git (got it?) about what other people think.  Those bungwads just do not matter. I mean, shit – do they have an infamous blog, wear mom jeans, and go to bed at 8:00 on the couch every night with their mouths agape? Case closed. 

Cool shades courtesy of Picmonkey!!!

Cool shades courtesy of Picmonkey!!!

I would not change any (except for the school thing, that REALLY pisses me off) part of my story. Your story makes you who you are, molds you into the unique individual…blah, blah blah. You know what I’m sayin.’ It’s my story, and it’s pretty cool. My life rocks.

HENCEFORTH: To sum it all up: To my 18 year old self, I have these very wise words of philosophical ramblings: Learn to laugh, relax, definitely don’t relax or laugh about college, stay thin, wear a lot of bikinis, smile a lot, flip a ton of people the bird (not while you’re driving!)  and don’t give too many shits about a whole lot of nothin.’ That’s my advice and I’m out.

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