I turn 37 tomorrow and I have to say, the 10 year-old version of myself would be psyched about my current earring choices.
She would also be happy that I am writing, because she has already promised many people that she is going to be an author, like a best-selling author.
She would be confused about why I have ditched padded bras and how I have become so freaking spiritual.
She would tell me my kids need a trampoline. And a dog.
I would tell her that her strength lies in her eagerness to do things now, to start new projects, but it is also a potential source of burnout. I would tell her that I am just learning lessons now about slowing down.
She would be happy to know that as you get older people do take you more seriously, but surprised to know that the secret is really believing it for yourself first.
She would be surprised to know that grown-ups can actually do whatever they want, but often withhold permission from themselves.
She would literally jump up and down to know I have made a career out of skating and that my teams are getting better and better, because she really likes to win.
I would tell her that soon, comments about her skinny legs will change to comments about how she should be skinnier. And it will be hard. And she will figure it out.
She would be happy to know that I love my body so much.
She would be happy to know that I have always had nice boyfriends. And I married the nicest man I ever met. And I am falling crazy in love with him for a second time.
I would tell her that she will actually never come near to death by waiting for something, although patience will never be her strong suit. I would tell her how much calmer she will look and feel when she learns to continuously look for the next lesson instead of the next outcome.
I would tell her that life is easier when you believe that things happen for you, not to you.
I would tell her that she is so loved and to not be afraid of mistakes.
She would ask again how I have become so freaking spiritual.
And she would tell me to get a dog.