Guys don’t send you coded messages in song lyrics and other things I’d tell my teenage self….

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Okay, so, I guess I didn’t know EVERYTHING as a teen (just most things, of course). And so as another birthday rolls around this week, I’ve been considering the advice I would’ve given to my teenage self:

 

– A strip of hot-pink lycra across your chest DOES NOT constitute clothing. Especially when it’s paired with a white, faux-leather mini skirt. I don’t care if boob tubes are in and you have abs like Britney Spears. Not. Cool. There will be photos of this to haunt you.

– Guys who hoon around in cars are mindless dickheads. Always.

– Find a museum to house your CD collection. It is truly amazing that such an horrific collection of tunes ever existed.  How does one reconcile owning Aqua’s Aquarium (of Barbie Girl fame), The Presidents of the United States of America (she’s lump, she’s lump, she’s in my head….), Peter Andre, Human Nature, Korn and Queen’s Greatest Hits??

– guyssuckass24_7@hotmail.com is not a cool email address, even for a future feminist.

– Kudos for mastering blow jobs! Cosmo’s handy tips will stand you in bloody good stead. But for chrisssakes woman, learn how to service your own lady parts with equal skill. You won’t be able to tell others how to get it right if you can’t even do it yourself. And think about all the fun you’re missing out on!

– Don’t let adults belittle your point of view just because you’re a teenager. You’re intelligent and considered, stick to your guns.

– Give your mum a break about the overflowing ironing cupboard for two reasons: 1) You’re old enough to be doing your own goddamn washing/ironing so you forfeit the right to complain 2) It’s a scientific fact that the ironing sneakily breeds and multiplies when you’re not looking, ensuring you can never get it done.

– Appreciate your brothers, even though they gave you wedgies and a mild form of claustrophobia as a child. Finding time to socialise with them as an adult is difficult.

– Treasure the intensity of your experiences, both good and bad. You’re in the sweet spot. You’re old enough to have some adult experiences, but young enough to enjoy them with a youthful sense of adventure. One day, having a “sense of adventure” will mean gambling that the washing won’t get rained on while you duck to the shops.

– Enjoy feeling tipsy on four Bicardi Breezers. It’s the only time in your life your low tolerance to alcohol won’t coincide with the obligation to breastfeed a screaming baby.

– Lay off your poor Health PE teacher. There’s a limit to the number of times the poor guy can confiscate classroom notes detailing fictitious sexcapades with your latest crush. Chances are he probably didn’t want to know that you planned to detain your crush and “suck him dry”. (No wonder he became a fire fighter instead. Sorry, Mr Woods!)

– Read, read, and read some more. You’ll never have the time to read as much as you’d like.

– Relax behind the wheel, rageoholic. So what if someone is doing 10km/h under the speed limit? It’s not their fault you’re pushing it to hand your uni assignment in on time. One day you’ll drop below the speed limit while you’re handing out Cruskits to unruly passengers or catching your two-year-old’s spew with a towel. Deal. With. It.

– Guys DO NOT speak to you in code through song lyrics. They’re not that complicated. So when your ex recommended you songs with the lyrics “You were everything I wanted” and “I’ll stop the world and melt with you”. Yeah, no. No secret messages. Just songs he thought were kinda cool.

– Don’t sell yourself short.

– Savour the time in your life when being scared shitless meant guarding the bathroom drain from IT the clown or hoping Freddy Kruger wasn’t going to slice you up in your dreams. One day random everyday occurrences – cancer diagnoses, car crashes, freak accidents – will become a terrifying possibility for not only yourself, but the ones you love.

– Ask your sex ed teacher if it’s possible for women to achieve climax without clitoral stimulation, via the elusive g-spot. Twenty eight is too old not to know the answer to this question.

– Start saving to buy yourself a decent pair of tits, because those suckers DID NOT magically appear when you were pregnant and/or breastfeeding.  You actually end up with LESS (and yes, that really is possible).

– Hug your mum, tell her how awesome she is and how much you love her. She deserves to hear it, even though you won’t fully comprehend just how amazing she is until you have babies of your own.

 

What advice would you give your teenage self? Please share your thoughts below!

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Comments

  1. I’d like to tell my teenage self that if a guy does start to sing to you, particularly lines from a song by Creed, without a Bicardi Breezer or Woodstock in hand, it’s not romantic and you need to walk away. Also… appreciate your art teacher. As you grow older, his ideologies will subtly be the gauge by which you set up many of your own philosophies 🙂 And get off MSN, you need to experience more sunlight.

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    • Haha Creed! Not the old “can you take me higher?” trick (or was it with arms wide open??) Maybe some guys do try to communicate via song?! It seems wise to ignore either way.
      Yes! Some lessons you learn from particular teachers (outside of the textbooks) will stay with you for life. I still hold so many fond memories of art class.
      Thank you for sharing xx

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  2. Bree… You had me giggling. Poor Mr Woods… And all of our other teachers for that matter. Those notes were an education for girls like me! I also remember drinking breezers at your place one night… I don’t think I managed 4… Possibly only two!! And sadly, yes… My first email address was eagerbeaver@hotmail… Didn’t even know what it meant!! Haha great times xx

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    • Thanks Megan! Yeah, if anyone knows where Mr Woods is I feel I owe him an apology..maybe we should find him for the reunion? Haha.
      Here are the kids of today smashing down double blacks and we had a great time with our 2-4 breezers. Such fond memories! You totally knew you were an eager beaver 😉
      Xx

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  3. My teenage self needed a copy of “He’s not that into you” as did my 20 something self as did my early 30s self.
    PS: small breasts are not such a curse when as you hurtle towards your mid 40s.

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    • Haha, yes! That book could’ve prevented more than a few awkward moments in my teens.
      Very true about small boobs! I’ll appreciate them when my big busted friends are picking theirs up off the floor. I would have them done (wouldn’t mind a generous b-cup) but I’m too lazy!

      Like

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