Dear sixteen-year-old self

In the future, you still have a flat chest. Sorry.

The pimples left ugly scars in their way. Sorry.

Skinny jeans still fit loosely around your hips. Sorry.

You were right: your metabolism is conspiring against you. Sorry.

And of course, magazines still romanticize ‘skinny’. Sorry.

Your hair? Yes love, it’s still an awkward mess. Sorry.

But you are braver now, bolder now. Not sorry.

You walk with your head held high, and hair tied higher. Not sorry.

You speak your mind and take up space without hesitation. Not sorry.

You realized that “perfect” was a downright bore. Really, really not sorry.

Basically, the good news is: you’re alright kid.

So sleep, and sleep a lot.

Laugh, and be unapologetic about it.

Dance, and let your hair soak in the rain.

Do all the things you would do if you weren’t worrying about late boobs, aggressive pimples, and naughty hair.

Because how you looked will probably be the least exciting part of the story when your grandchildren ask you: so what did you do with your life?


Your wiser self

By Takhona Grace

Takhona Grace