Aging Advice to My Younger Self

 Age… Such a touchy subject. Still, there was a time we actually wanted to get older. Remember those days? If only we’d known then what we know now! We could have lolled more, smelled more roses, and relished every moment. In that vein, I’m sending info to my younger self about the perils of wishing away that precious commodity called time.

 

To Age 6 Me:

So what if you have to go to bed at 7:00? That’s no reason to wish you were older.  In a few years, the television show you so desperately want to watch at  8:00 p.m. will be available on this marvel called Netflix. You can watch it anytime you want, as often as you want. Even better, you can pause it while you go and get a juice pack—although you’ll probably want to add something to that pseudo-orange juice to make it more palatable. You’ll have to be 21 before you can do that, so just deal with it.

I know you can’t sleep, but trust me, your mom will be less cranky if you fake it. She’s the one who needs the sleep. Even better, you can make up stories while you lay there in the dark.  That skill will
come in handy... Until people stop reading.

To Age 10 Me:

I know you’re not tall enough to get on that roller coaster, but stop wishing your youth away. You’ll still be too short for that ride when you’re twelve.  Even worse, neither you nor your folks understand the condition known as motion sickness. As you’ll discover soon enough, regurgitation is just icky.

To Age 12 Me:

Just because your mom won’t let you go to boy/girl parties is not a reason to skip a couple years. Most 12-year-old boys have a lot in common with regurgitation. Besides, if you really want to go, don’t mention there will be males in attendance. Just tell momma the truth: Debbie Dutiful is attending. (Debbie is the Ms. I’m-So-Goody-My-Boogers-Taste-Like Sugar who hands out bibles at Sunday School for us heathens who forgot ours—probably because we were up late making up stories.  Anyway, our mom loves her). I’m honestly not encouraging you to lie by omission, but later in life, you’ll wish you’d been more adventurous.

P.S. Debbie Dutiful will change her name, start a blog called God Loves Single Moms in Short Skirts and become an influencer with 87 followers.

To Age 15 Me:

You can't date until you're 16. Big deal. That boy who makes you want to cut 12 months from your life will be an awful kisser and you’ll dump him the next day.  Besides, if you pretend you’re not sure if you want to go out with him, he’ll gladly wait an entire year for the honor of accompanying you. Even better, a reputation of being hard-to-get, makes a female even more attractive to the opposite sex.  It’s one of life’s great mysteries.

 

To Age 50+ Me:

Stop wishing it was six months later (or 24 or 36 or 48—you didn’t think I was going to give away my age, did ya??  Yuk, yuk!). Retirement will come soon enough.

On second thought, that age progression wish might just have been worth it. Retirement rocks. It’s like being six again. 

 

Happy days—and months and years—everyone. 

Live every second.

R