Dear 12 Year Old Me,

I know, I know. Things are pretty rough. Clothes don’t fit you and you haven’t figured out how to straighten your hair yet. You’re in love with Jimmy (a teenaged Greek god!), and he caught you writing his name in your notebook in brightly coloured pencils and now you can never show your face to the world again. An emergency intervention from the future is in order! Now that I am elderly and near death (26), I’ve found out a few things that I want to share with you immediately, to help you in your transition from uncomfortable tween pupae to busty adult butterfly. Here we go!

First thing’s first: there will come a day when you realize that you love musicians, beards and men who read philosophy books. Soccer-playing boys are simply not for you (you will never understand the rules of this or any sport), and this includes Jimmy. I know it’s impossible to believe now, as you’ve already planned out your entire future with him on the back of your notebook (love that drawing of your wedding dress, btw), but there are some really interesting men coming your way and you are going to have a hella good time.

Next: Don’t ever start drinking coffee. Despite its glorious properties, you have no self control when it comes to regulating this magical concoction and will inevitably spend far too many sleepless nights maniacally attempting to achieve every goal you’ve ever set for yourself simply because you made the mistake of having caffeine after 5pm.

Unrelated, but important: I’m not sure why no one has explained this to you yet, but getting your period does not mean that you have to wear a pad every day for the rest of your life, like some sort of geriatric diaper. Tampons seem scary but I promise they are little cotton-y friends.

This “style” you’ve adopted of braided pigtails and brightly coloured overalls is simply too ahead of its time. You look like Pipi Longstocking on an acid trip. Cool it.

“Shut up, you’re fat!” as Matthew so eloquently puts it to you at recess is not a reason to stop making a salient point. First of all things settle slightly, bod-wise, and you start to look like a  Renaissance painting and Matthew all of a sudden has endless amounts of time to listen to the things you have to say. He’s a jerk who will consequently spend several years wishing he’d been your friend when you decide to start experimenting with your sexuality. Something called “Google” is on its way, and you can find out what a Renaissance nude looks like then. Trust me, it’s good.

You’re going to go on a school trip to Algonquin Park and have to sleep in a cabin and spend inordinate amounts of time outdoors, but hear this: NOBODY is going to notice when you pee in the canoe.

Your suspicions about positions of authority are true: they don’t really know much more about life than you do at any given time. However, they do hold salaried positions, and therefore you must show them respect even when they behave badly (I am still fuzzy about why). However, please note, for now and especially for the future: there are far fewer consequences for speaking your mind than you think. When you’re a grown up nobody can send you to the principal’s office.

All the best and have SO much fun discovering Instagram in like, 10 years,

Allana