Part Two: On growing up
Unfortunately, being the oldest you’ll always be a guinea
pig. The parents will try out a new rule or new parental teaching tactic on you
to figure out if it “works”. If it doesn’t “work”, they’ll shrug their
shoulders and make necessary adjustments for the next kid. Your parents are going to be really, really
annoyingly protective and conservative.
You’ll resent them.
This is normal. Most teenagers resent their parents at some
point.
Your parents have really great intentions, though.
You’ll laugh about it one day.
Your three younger siblings are going to have different
parents than you did. You’re going to be mad about it. But then you’ll realize you can use your
influence as an adult to make sure your siblings don’t have annoying parents.
Your siblings will never thank for being the oldest or for
looking out for them.
You’re going to start making movies when you’re eight.
I think the first one is an exercise video.
(You should take your own advice that you’re giving in that
video. Just saying.)
You’re going to love making movies.
You’ll be doing that forever.
Now here’s something I want to really prepare you for:
Middle School.
Middle School is stupid.
Everybody has these really crazy, weird changes to their
bodies.
Everybody looks stupid and awkward, but everybody is too
busy thinking about how stupid and awkward their own bodies are to realize how
stupid and awkward your body is.
Regardless, you’re going to be the first one out of all your
friends to go through puberty. But you’re going to think that your new boobs,
size 6 adult hips, and inability to shop in the children’s section means you’re
fat and overweight.
This is not true, Becky.
Like really, take my word for it.
You’re going to think that all the cheerleaders are pretty
and popular.
It’s true, but you’re going to try out for cheerleading not
once, but twice.
And, I’m sorry to say you won’t make it both times.
But you do look good in those Soffe shorts.
You’re going to get bullied by this girl.
She makes fun of you because your mom buys your clothes at
Wal-Mart.
She’s just a bitch and will drop out of high school in 9th
grade.
It’s going to feel like a big deal, and you’re going to cry.
It’s okay.
You’ll have your own money one day, and you can shop
wherever the hell you want.
(Also, when you’re an adult you’ll say things like “Bitch”
and “Hell” when appropriate.)
You’re going to start taking private voice lessons in Middle
School.
This changes your life, because you love showtunes now.
Unfortunately, you won’t be pretty until you’re 17. Even
then, you’re just better looking then you were in Middle School. But, you’ll be
funny. And people will like you.
You’re going to get picked last in gym class every time,
don’t worry about it. They can’t help it. The order goes cool athletic black
guys, athletic white guys, pretty girls, and then you. But it’s okay.
Seriously, it’s not a big deal.
You’re going to want to eat carbohydrates all day long.
Don’t.
I may be able to save you about 20 pounds of weight gain in
high school if you remember to stop eating all the carbs.
And go running.
You kinda enjoy it when you’re my age.
Please, start running in high school.
You’re going to be the coolest when you’re a senior in high school.
You’ll be on student council, you’re going to escort cute
buys at the Hot and Spicy Pageant, you’ll be in Beta Club, Spanish Club,
Chorus, Chorus President, you’ll have a lead in Footloose, you’ll be in the
elite singing ensemble Volume One, and you’ll be voted Most Original by your
class.
You’re going to make a ton of movies for your classes that
are “super awesome” and funny.
And you’re going to graduate from high school.
This is going to feel like the biggest thing that has ever
happened to you.
But, your life isn’t a Glee episode.
Your life will change very much after high school.
So, don’t live in the past.
Make new friends.
Enjoy college, like a boss.
Learn to study well.
You’ll do a lot of growing up in college. But this letter is
just to get you through the tough years, when you’re super insecure and
pretending not to be.