...and 38 Is Better than 18

Dear 18-year-old Self on our birthday,

Don't worry about dropping our cake after the dance recital and forgetting our keys in Mom's car - it all works out. Aaron drives you forty miles out of his way and tells you he loves you for the first time. It's worth the embarrassment.

In the twenty years since I was you, a lot has happened. Let it. If I tell you that our parents are SOOOO wrong and that student loan debt is NOT like other debt, you will go off to a great university on the east coast and a certain curly-headed girl might not exist. Every bad thing will have been worth it once you meet her, I promise - so disregard that stuff about our parents being fallible.



I also promise that the bad things aren't as bad once time passes.

I can't say that you'll become famous or rich by the time you're 38, because I can't lie to you - even though I have in the past. I'm sorry for that, too. I'll try to be better to our Future Self, okay?

I can tell you this:

• You're tougher than you think. You're tougher than anyone thinks.
• Practice makes you better. Actually, practice makes you excellent. Now it's up to me to be braver so that excellence gets noticed - another thing I will do for our Future Self.
• Aaron is not the great love of your life. I know you don't believe me and that's fine. You'll know what to do when the time is right.

• Devanie really is one of your "best friends forever." Have fun getting ready for the Ball with her. You'll end up redoing her hair after some hair stylist makes her look fifty-four. It turns out great (foreshadowing...). If you can get her to not spend her money on it, do it. I don't think she'll listen, though. Michael is not the great love of her life. Don't bother telling her that - I think she already knows.
• You still have great skin and your hair isn't grey (in fact, it's darker).

Go and enjoy our birthday.
Love,
GiGi
p.s. Mom lied. A lot.