Some advice to my 21 year old self.
As I was squeezing the death out of my frizzy bangs with my new (new to me, it was a hand-me-down) mini hair straightener, I started think that my bad hair days would have been solved along time ago. Imagine that, twenty years of good hair days.
I could see my sixteen year-old self, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom of my mama's house, listening to 99.1 KGGI (which, by the way, was the only station we got in the I.E at that time) and hissing about the state of my sometimes-straight-sometimes-curly-always-frizzy hair. There was this blond girl named Linda who rode my bus. She had the nicest, smoothest, straightest hair that hung almost to her butt. When I would catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass of the bus window, I would be disgusted by all the frizzy baby hairs that fuzzed around my head like a halo gone bad. I wish I could have told that girl in the reflection, Girlfriend, go and find yourself a little flat iron!
But that was back in the dark ages...I don't even know if they made them back then.
So to have this little mini straightener would have been a godsend. All my bad hair days would have been eliminated. But knowing me, I would have found something else about me to obsess about. But then I got to thinking. What other advice would my wizened, crusty 37 year-old self have for my fresh, ignorant, non-saggy, sex-starved, optimistic 21 year-old self?
It goes a little something like this.
Girlfriend, enjoy your body the way it is now. Yes, with all the little "imperfections". Believe me, you look good. You are beautiful. You are strong. You are healthy. Nothing jiggles that's not supposed to. Keep working out. Keep eating healthy. Have some confidence in yourself. Your curves are way before their time.
Keep all of your Vans. They will never go out of style.
Yes, you will need to have good credit to buy a house someday, to buy a new car, to avoid cashing checks at the local Latino market like a vagabond. So stop accepting all those credit cards from Macy's, Target, Best Buy, Discover, Visa, Mastercard, Mervyns, and the National Bank of the Philippines. Just stop. Yes, you will have to pay this back one day. Yes, you will have a life outside of college and yo mama's tit--yes, you will have to make your way in this world alone financially someday. Don't screw it up with a 23% interest rate.
Please stop sweatin' that tall, skinny dude with a baby 'fro so hard. Trust me. Yeh, he is caught up in baby mama drama right now but someday he is going to be all yours. He is even going to want to marry you. And then you will have six of his baybay's.
When your dad tries to teach you how to drive stick, learn! Quit being lazy and saying you will just always drive an automatic car. Learning how to drive stick is definitely a good skill to have. Not to mention butch, and you know how much you like to be butch-y.
Put down your bong and put in 100% of your effort in college. You actually don't know everything.
Enjoy all this free time you have, especially those quiet, "boring" moments. Cherish every morning that you get to wake up at 9am, not having to worry about feeding little people, working on phonics, washing peepee blankets and worrying if the mortgage is going to be paid that month. You think holding down an brainless part-time job and studying for finals is stressful? Heh. You poor, clueless young girl.
Go to church.
Next time your 7 and 8 year old boy cousins come over and terrorize your Nana's house, observe their behavior instead of hiding upstairs in your room. Can you hear them running up and down the stairs, whining, yelling, hyperactive and smelling of puppy? Well, you're gonna have four just like them--perhaps even more loud, more hyper, more whiny and even smellier, if that's possible.
Don't bother washing your hair every.single.day. Think of how much shampoo and conditioner you'll save. Think of how much extra sleep you'll get. Think of how much better your hair will look if you recycle your mousse. And no, it's not stinky. Think about it, you rarely ever sweat.
Instead of planning on which nightclub you're gonna go to, why not visit New York? Italy? Spain? Anywhere but the Florentine Gardens in El Monte.
And don't worry, big booties are going to be in some day, so show me what you're working with.