Time Travelling Tan

I recently watched the Time Traveller's Wife. Y'know... the one where the husband has some brain issue that causes him to travel back and forth in time so that he sees himself and his family at all different ages including after death. 

It's a head-case of a movie but it got me thinking. What would I tell myself if I knew what I do now...


Dear three year old me, 
Your fluffy little yellow baby chick is not standing up because it's dead. You killed it when you took it to bed with you to sleep. No amount of leaning it against the wall is going to make it stand up.

Dear sixteen year old me, 
I know you think he's the love of your life and that you will be with him forever and ever and NO-ONE could possibly understand how much you love him but he's not. Don't run away from home to be with him. You're going to break your mum's heart and your friends are going to think you're an idiot. Which you are.


Dear twenty two year old me, 
DO NOT resign from Apple. They're going to rule the world and you're gonna wish for the rest of your days that your were on that ship. Also, you know that start-up company that gave you an offer that you thought was too good to be true but you went for anyway? Trust your gut girl - they're crooks.

Dear pre-motherhood me,
Don't waste your time on girl's baby names.

Dear fourteen year old me, 
Don't be so hard on your Dad. He's not well and fighting many demons, which you will understand when you're older. Don't tell him that you're not his daughter because you've never had a father. Kiss him and tell him you love him. Don't tell him that you never want to see him again. Because you won't. 

Dear four year old me, 
Don't drag three kindy chairs together and ask your hugely overweight neighbour to take a seat when she comes to see you in your kindergarten concert. It will cause her and your mother enormous embarrassment.

Dear thirty-five year old me, 
The midwife got it wrong. You're NOT 7 centimetres dilated, you're only 3. Take the fucking epidural!


Dear eleven year old me,
He's just not that into you. Get used to it. It's gonna happen a lot.

Dear Year Twelve me,
Don't bother turning up to Biology AT ALL. You're going to write a poem for your mid year exam and you're gonna get passed for the subject anyway. PLUS you'll win the poetry prize, get published and have it read out on radio.


Dear twenty three year old me, 
She really IS a stupid, disloyal friend who should NEVER have chosen to sleep with your ex-boyfriend. So...when she comes out of the pub, take her around the back to beat her up instead of in the lit-up car park so you're not dragged off her in a full nelson by the bouncers.


Dear seventeen year old me,
You don't know everything. You never will.

Love forty year old me xx

What would you tell your younger self??