1986: Letter to My 12-Year-Old Self
Dear Shasta:
You won’t believe it, but we’re 45 now. FORTY-FIVE! I KNOW!!! Blue Hair-ville straight ahead!
First off: I’ll get this out of the way: by 2019, Jesus still has not returned. You can relax. You don’t have to be worried that you’ll be stuck in the Place of Safety and unable to shave your legs while Armageddon rages around you.
Your mom and dad stay together and don’t get divorced like a lot of people you’ll meet in your life. You should appreciate them now and thank them for that when you’re older.
I know you’ve read “Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret” and even though it’s a popular book with girls your age, you don’t understand why this character is so excited to start wearing Kleenex in her underwear and bra. Trust me when I say "The Big Event" is no big deal. It happens to half the human population. Don’t hate it, because your body is your body, and you're a girl, and this is what girls do. (By the way, you will never have to stuff your bra. You’re welcome.)
Learn to love your name. Sure, that one trucker tells you his dog was named Shasta, and there's that year at church camp those kids tell you if you marry this kid Matt Popp you’ll be Shasta Popp. You’ve taken a bunch of ribbing about it your whole life, and you hate it. But eventually you’ll be thankful your parents named you something unique. People don't forget you, thanks to your name.
Be nice to your sister, Heather. You are nice to her, for the most part (except when you’re not), but I just want to emphasize this. She’s got your back, so be kind.
You’ll start getting a few gray hairs in college. DO NOT PANIC. Dye your hair if you want to. Or don’t. But eventually, you’ll look at your reflection in the mirror, your stomach pooch, your laugh lines, your wattle, and your gray hairs, and you’ll shrug and say, “F*ck‘em if they can’t take a joke.” That saying won’t even make sense from an actual logical standpoint, but it's something you love saying when it comes to your hair and other things for which you do not apologize. (I know you are clutching your pearls right now because of That Word. Relax. Occasionally it is warranted. However, DO NOT use That Word until you are out of your parents' house. You don't want to be in that kind of trouble, believe me.)
In a few years, you'll finally hear your dad say a cuss word, and you'll laugh and laugh....
Speaking of laughing, you have a sense of humor that serves you well, so keep that close at hand. Life’s pretty absurd for the most part. You can’t go wrong laughing at your dog’s furry little cocktail wiener waving in the wind while he naps, because that stuff is funny, even if it's puerile. Keep learning new words like "puerile." You'll use them, trust me. Nobody will know what you're talking about, but that's not your problem.
Don't stop your dance lessons, especially tap. You've actually gotten pretty good at it, and one day you'll wish you were still tip-tapping away.
Enter that radio contest you hear on The Edge 102 in 2001. We'll be the 102nd caller and win something cool.
I'll say this only once: YOU CANNOT EAT EVERYTHING YOU WANT.
I'm going to tell you our future right now, but the good news is, we can change it:
You'll be offered a cigarette after college, and you'll have opportunities to drink copious amounts of alcohol, like pretty much everybody does. You'll even be around some weed at times. (Calm down, we don't go to jail.) All of these will seem like good ideas because you want to feel edgy and rebellious after you graduate from a "church school," and this is your time to show yourself and others that you're really not that high in the instep.
But eventually, you end up with a tiger by the tail and decide you want to stop. You spend years of your life trying to, and it is hell until you finally do. Honestly, I'd rather we spend those years tap-dancing, or writing, or running. Let's forego the addictive substances altogether, if you don't mind.
You don’t have to be perfect, and you don’t have to live your life perfectly. Because believe me, you won't. Anne Lamott says, “Grace bats last.” Yes, it does. It’s the clean-up hitter, when all is said and done. So don't be too hard on people who disappoint you, including yourself. Try to apply some grace to everyone and everything.
It all works out, trust me. But —
That super-hot boy you like, the one you tell your friends, “I’ve literally never seen a more beautiful human being”, the one that you spend four years of your life sighing and googly-eyed over? Yeah, that doesn't work out. Count yourself lucky, because that guy is a train wreck now.
