Yesterday I posted about things I would say to my 16 year old self.
The comments I received varied.
Mostly you told me that 16 year old “me” was a lot like 16 year old “you.”
Who do you think I was tanning topless with?
Others made the point that 16 year olds wouldn’t listen to anybody anyway.
But many said they were thankful to their 16 year old selves because the past has made them who they are today.
I thought that was lovely.
So lovely in fact, that I pulled out my old photo albums, and went through pictures of my 16 year old self, trying to remember how that time really felt.
I was fully prepared to embrace those 16 year old emotions, and give credit to them for making me the woman I am today.
…this is what I came up with…
Sixteen year old me.
…ummm…hello 16 year old me.
Your hair is so fucken fuzzy.
See, this is the hair that made me embrace the invention of the straightening iron.
It was the memory of this hair rearing its frizzy-bitch self that made me panicky for the seven days we were in Florida.
Florida humidity caused that hair to try and make a resurgence.
It even cracked my straightening iron in half! Yes! Yes it did!
I had to drop $150 on a new straightening iron while on my vacation because I was miserable enough spending all that quality time with my family.
I was not about to do it looking like Bozo the Fucken Clown.
So 16 year old me has made me the woman I am today.
With straight hair.
And expensive hair products.