Dear Teen Me: Authors Write Letters to Their Teen Selves (True Stories) (40 page)

Erika Stalder

Dear Teen Me,

Let’s talk about boys. I know, I know—you think the topic is overhyped and undervalued. And you’re annoyed that seemingly all the chicks around you are consumed—
consumed
!—by boy stuff. I really can’t blame you for thinking “Gawd—enough already!” What with your best friend dating a twenty-five-year-old gangster with jailhouse tattoos and a gunplay fetish (not to mention a thing for MUCH younger, virginal girls—gross!), and your carpool buddy who rhapsodizes on and
on
about her boy exploits…It’s pretty exhausting.

And of course it doesn’t help that your first date was with a guy who drove a windowless van (which he borrowed), and who didn’t bring enough money to even cover his
own
tab. Or that most of the hotties in your tiny school act like dopey surfer brahs who consume beerios (yes, that’s Cheerios in beer—ugh) for breakfast. But humor me.

Try to be nicer to the boys in your school. Even though the boy frontier is tumultuous, embarrassingly underexplored, and sometimes a downright hassle, high school guys are trying to get by just like you. They’re worried about whether their V cards have surpassed the socially acceptable use-by date. And they’ve all got that girl they desperately want to talk to but are terrified of approaching, just because they might be rejected. And despite the amount of misplaced innuendo and attaboying they engage in, these guys
can
be sincere. Sometimes, when a guy tells you that you look pretty, he means it, and you should simply thank him instead of
knowing
that he’s messing with you and flashing your signature “don’t eff with me” glare.

And for God’s sake—when you’re at that post-lip-sync party with your crush, make a move! I know you’re all worried about ruining your friendship with the guy, but after high school, you’ll never talk to him again—so that friendship isn’t as important as you think. What’s more, when you see him a year or so outta high school, you won’t even think he’s cute anymore—so get him while the gettin’s good! Not only will he likely go for a little action, but making the first move with a guy will be great practice in gutsiness, semicalculated risk taking, and, most importantly, seeing the sweet side of the male species
while you’re still in high school. Because as you’ll see, even just a year out of high school, the menfolk are awesome.

Speaking of which, I’ve got a few highlights for you: There’s an amazing mix-tape-making photographer you’re about to meet. He whisks you off to this secret, mountaintop location and treats you to the perfect picnic. You sit together up there, looking up at the stars, and even though it’s definitely the stuff that rom-coms are made of, it still feels magical and authentic. There’s also this bass-playing skater guy who takes the time to teach you to kick-kick-push, who doesn’t make fun of you when you eat pavement,
and
who doctors you up after you scrape the hell out of your leg trying to barrel down a hill. The guys in your life just keep getting better and better as your life goes on, and all you have to do to access their awesomeness is just let down your guard a bit. Good luck, and enjoy it!

Rhonda Stapleton

Dear Teen Me,

Looking a little chunky, aren’t ya?

Before that guy in junior English class said that to you, you’d had some fleeting worries about your thighs being a little too big. Your hips just a touch too curvy. But you’d just grown into a real bra size the summer before. You felt feminine, confident, strong.

Right up to that comment.

Those words are going to haunt you for a long time. Every time you look at yourself in the mirror, you’ll hear his voice: “Looking a little chunky, aren’t ya?”

Not that you want to admit to yourself or to anyone else that one stupid guy has the power to hurt you like that. Especially one you had a crush on—a fleeting emotion that crashed and burned point-two seconds after he said that to you. But they’re just words, right? That’s what you told yourself that day as you bit back the sting, blinked away the tears, slipped into your seat, and stared blindly ahead, your cheeks burning hot with humiliation. They’re just words, and words can’t hurt.

You never saw yourself the same way again after that, though. Your lens was broken.

I look back on you, remembering the way you studied every inch of your thighs, your butt, your belly in the mirror day after day, sucking in, wishing you were skinnier. And I feel sick that your view of yourself became skewed because of what one (thoughtless) person thought of you.

Because after that, you didn’t dress for fun, for flair. You dressed to accentuate the good and conceal the bad.

It wasn’t about personal statement. It was camouflage. It was illusion.

What’s even worse is that you weren’t
chunky
. You were healthy. You were curvy. You were attractive. But none of that mattered, because someone who didn’t care about you or your feelings blurted out one a sentence he probably forgot about five minutes later.

Not you, though. You lost almost all of your power and your self-confidence shortly after that. And you didn’t stop there—even into adulthood you were surrounded by images of beautiful women on TV, in movies, magazines, real life. Because beauty is a girl’s greatest asset, isn’t it? Perfect face, perfect body. Perfect soul. And you longed, you ached to look like them.

You have a daughter now. She’s fifteen—a sophomore. She has a free spirit, dresses how she pleases, doesn’t give a damn what others think of her. She’s healthy, she’s curvy, she’s attractive. But deep down you worry that some stupid boy is going to say something to mess that up.

You can’t change the cruel things people say. But don’t ever,
ever
forget that beauty goes beyond what you look like. Your beauty is in your heart. You care deeply about others. You smile freely. You’re generous with your time and spirit. There isn’t a damn thing anyone else can say about you that will change that.

Embrace your curves. They reflect your unique femininity. Your body is amazing! It will carry you to New York City, New Orleans, Oahu, San Francisco. It will bear your stresses, bear your children. It gives the most amazing hugs. It loves belly dancing, booty grinding, doing the sprinkler. It loves to walk, to hold hands, to kick leaves, and swim through big piles of snow.