Evidently it appears open letters are the new, cool way to communicate. And considering my classy English skillz, I am gladly jumping on this crowded bandwagon.
Just to be clear, I am not Sinead O’Connor, and you are not Miley Cyrus. Or maybe you are. If you are reading this, Miley, maybe go easy on the tongue and the horny goat weed, girlfriend.
This is a letter I would like to send to all young women at or under the age of 20, or somewhere in that clueless vicinity. Consider this the letter I wish some awesome, know-it-all bitch had sent me when I was 18 and struggling to use liquid eyeliner and common sense.
Dear ladies,
You don’t know me, but I have Michael J. Fox’d my way back from the future to help put the power of being awesome back in your hands. I also realise you are probably too young to get that Back to the Future reference, and already I’m close to tears. See, girls, you’re starting to give all us women a bad name. And some of it is not your fault. But some of it most definitely is. I’m hoping that by passing on these pearls of wisdom, I might have some effect in correcting your life course away from becoming an ignorant, insufferable tramp and more of an awesome, Beyoncé-in-the-Independent-Woman-filmclip type. Except without the rockin ass. You’ll have to speak to your trainer about that one. So listen up:
- Be Your Awesome Self.
If you are smart, just be smart. If you are funny, just be funny. Let your freak flag fly. There is nothing more frustrating than girls pretending to be stupid or boring just to make the men around them feel appreciated. They have over-indulgent mothers to do that for them. Some guys (or just people in general) might also be intimidated by girls who can crack a ripping joke. These people are idiots. And being awesome does not mean just being attractive and popular. It also means knowing that the body of water to the east of Australia is not the ‘Specific Ocean’.* So do your goddam homework.
- Don’t Plaster that S*** on the Internet.
If there is one solid reason for me to thank God, apart from the invention of alcoholic ginger beer, is that Facebook was not around when I was a teenager. Gurl, the world does not need to know yo business! Plastering selfies and personal information on the interwebs is like a permanent scare. On your face. It’s out there, and it’s ugly. And, trust me, when you get to 30 and look back on a timeline full of pictures of your half-naked self in the bathroom mirror and literary gems such as, “…canot be f***ed with u nemore. will smash you next time I c u, bitch,” you will want to punch yourself in the face. The key word here is MYSTERY, ladies! You’re a much more charming person when we don’t know who you slept with last weekend.
- You’re Not a Celebrity.
So stop acting like one. You don’t need to swan around with Starbucks coffee and announce your life plans every five minutes and expect everyone to care. Because eventually, when you grow up and realise you’re not actually famous, it will be a bigger let down than Britney Spears’ last concert. Be humble, for God’s sake.
- Eat Whatever You Want.
In ten years time, just the smell of a Big Mac will send your muffin top cascading over your jeans like lava. Some people claim that if they could turn back the clock, they would tell such-and-such that they loved them, or taken some random trip to Switzerland. If I had that kind of power, I would go back in time and eat all the food. I would stuff myself with chocolate donuts until I had diabetes. Because your teenage metabolism is working harder than Charlie Sheen’s lawyer. And once you hit 25, it goes AWOL, never to be seen again. Soak that gift up while it lasts, my friends.
- Love is a Battlefield.
Pat Benetar was an underestimated philosopher of the 20th Century. And if you don’t know who she is, YouTube her immediately. We are young, heartache to heartache, we stand. No promises, no demands. Those are wise words to live by. What Pat is saying is that you gotta practice at this stuff. And get tough. Because one day you’ll wake up in your late twenties, in your own apartment with your designer coffee machine and sheets you didn’t buy from Big W, and realise that, despite all you’ve done, you still have NO bloody idea about men. After being dumped by my Year 7 boyfriend in the tuckshop line, I ached for the day I was a grown woman who had all the answers on the male species. Let’s just say I’m still waiting.
- Sex is just a Battle.
The first time you have sex will most likely be really bad. It won’t change your life. It will just be bloody awkward. Because, despite their protestations, boys have no idea what they’re doing. If you want to get busy with a guy, just make sure it’s someone you actually like. Because guys will lie to get you in the sack. And use protection. Ask any straight male and he’ll tell you boys are pretty gross. I mean, some go for days without showering! Come on. You don’t need that shit all up in your grill. So to speak…
- It’s OK to be Ugly.
Trust me. I was back brace girl. With glasses and frizzy hair. No word of a lie; I was a walking cliché. But to distract people from the alien-type restraining device around my chubby body, I worked bloody hard on my personality. And now that I am 29, brace-free and not a giver of shits, I don’t need to rely on my looks or sexuality. No woman should have to. And ditch the trampy make up. You know all those girls who wear blankets of foundation two shades too dark for their skin and eyeliner that would give Taylor Momsen a run for her money? In a few years they is gonna have skin that resembles braille, girlfriend. Wouldn’t you rather risk a couple of stray zits for the sake of remaining fresh faced and youthful? I know I would.
Whinge all you want, but you know I’m right. Put down the cheap hair extensions and read a book. You can thank me later.
Yours in girl power,
Lauren
If you could go back in time and lecture your young, idiot self, what would you say?
*A student I once taught actually said this to me. In earnest. I wanted to poke my eyes out.
That's What She Said... 
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