The Bee Chair Debates...

BCD'S LETTERS TO OUR JUNIOR HIGH SELVES: PART 2

Dear 7th Grade Kristen,

First off, way to go with algebra! I knew you’d get it eventually.

Second, wear your retainer. They weren't kidding when they said your teeth would move back.

Third. Hm. Third. Okay. I know this time in your life seems tremendously weird, and you think you look like a giant, female Woody Allen. But there are a few things you should know about your future. Some of it, I swear, makes this all worth it.

-Your paralyzing shyness will turn into to mere quietude and minor awkwardness. It will give you a slight air of mystery, and people will occasionally assume you are pondering something witty and insightful. You will actually be thinking, “Bunnies are fuzzy (*drool*).” Do not let anyone know this.

-For the love of god, you are not fat … though, it wouldn’t hurt to change your all-cookie diet somewhat. Things kind of get out of hand your freshman year of college. And in 2000. And again in 2003.

-Carey D. will never love you, or even know you as anything beyond The Girl Who Passes My Locker a Lot. He will slow-dance to Warrant's "Heaven" with Rachel P. at the big Halloween ball. This will be a microcosm of future relationships. Sometimes, you will be the Carey figure. Other times, Rachel. Occasionally, you will be Warrant, and that will confuse you.

-You will always be obsessed with Halloween, the Mets, U2, and writing bad poetry in your diary. Your love of horses will disappear into air after you actually ride one for the first time. They are stinky.

-Your first kiss is coming! And he's totally cute! Enjoy it, because it will not happen again for a long, long time.

-Mom and Dad are SO uncool, right? Dumbass. They're spectacular parents, and as you grow more observant of mothers and fathers around you, you'll recognize just how good you have it. Please know, though, that you will never, ever beat Dad at Trivial Pursuit. Questions about World War II and the Nixon administration will be your inevitable downfall. (I'm not saying, "Don't try," I'm saying, "Cheat.")

-Your relative spaciness will always be there, as will your math proficiency, love of books, and complete inability to follow a map. Also, that time in third grade when you stabbed your foot with a pencil? The mark's still around, like, 20 years later. It's really weird.

-You will be confused for your sister for the rest of your life. This isn't a bad thing. Also, Eddie is going to be much, much bigger than you someday. Stop beating on him, and he might take pity. But probably not.

-Tell Aunt B. you love her more often. You'll know why eventually.

-You will be a crap athlete forever. You will try really hard, and next year, you’ll even make the 8th grade softball team, but that will be the extent of your on-field glory. Forays into broomball, touch football, dodgeball - basically any sport that ends in “ball” - will be disastrous. You will blame your boobs mostly, claiming, “They got in the way.” These will be lies. LIES!

-The Girl Scout troop you were considering quitting? Don't do it. You will know and adore these people 15 years later, and a lot of it has to do with the bond you created over separating cans of corn for orphans.

-In 15 years, you will not be married. You will not be a performer on Saturday Night Live. You will not have a car, a house, or that bizarre affection for Guns ‘N’ Roses’ “Patience.” You WILL have a decent job. You will have visited England, Spain, and Seattle. You will have a Masters degree, a neato group of friends, and a sweet dude who will believes that “House of Slacks” would be a much better movie than “House of Wax” (not the Vincent Price one – the Paris Hilt… forget it).

Keep going, and be who you are. The rest is gravy.

Love and remember what I said about the retainer,

Kristen

posted by Kris at 1:26 PM