Sure, I may not have hit my thirties…nor have I stumbled into my forties yet. And my mortgage free fifties are by far a long way off. Bitter divorcee, or Miss Mid Life Crisis I am not! The frames in my flat are still filled of girlie holiday snaps and Mum rather than ‘James’ and the sprogs. (Let’s just say for arguments sake my future husband is called James ok?)  My fridge contains the basics. Eggs..milk..Nutella and whatever I managed to grab on my walk from the station to home that evening. And don’t bother calling me before 10am because there is a 99.9% chance you will be greeted with that repetitive, monotone cow from my mobile network. I still leave work at 6pm, and make various pit stops before clambering into my bed at 1am; I know the following day is an early start.

And while the above is nothing to brag about, it may leave you thinking ‘this bitch has no right to be giving her younger self any type of advice.’ But after dinner with a life long friend yesterday, we realised that from 18 – 25 we have changed significantly. Within as little as six years we have evolved, become wiser and somehow (miraculously) grown up. Along with the shift from our get boys and bitch teens, to our ‘get rich or die trying’ twenties, has come various revelations…stuff we wouldn’t have done had we been gifted the ability of hindsight. I thought of what I would tell the younger me given the chance.

Dear Me,

Quite simply he’ s a Dick.

Focus. Show up and be present.

There is no guarantee you will be successful. Success is determined by hard work not luck.

Not everyone can be Beyonce..someone has to be Michelle. It’s ok to be Michelle.

Don’t Quit.

The party you missed wasn’t worth it anyway.Drinks and drugs age you prematurely.

No seriously don’t quit.

It’s ok to believe in yourself. It doesn’t make you arrogant. You are as talented as fuck. Don’t let narrow minded folk rain on your parade.

Happiness is the key.

Not all food is your friend.

 

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