As I was getting ready this morning, I was looking in the mirror and reminded of a chubby thirteen year old that wore a side pony tail with big thick glasses. She was tall for her age and had already gone through puberty in 5th grade.
She was unsure of herself. She was often teased and had few friends. But this girl loved to read. Her books really were her friends. She loved to read and get lost in the characters and story line.
As I looked back at those eyes in the mirror, I thought, “What would I tell this poor girl?” Would I tell her that she’s marry her sixth grade crush that teased her and called her Konan the Barbiarian? Would I explain that she’d make it out of Jr. High alive, but barely? Or that she’s end up having the most amazing life, even better than she dreamed? Or say nothing at all?
I came to the conclusion that I’m still that awkward 13 year old that yearns for attention and friends. I still love getting lost in books.
I still feel like wearing a side ponytail, though I’m grateful for contacts. I don’t know that we every grow out of ourselves.
That little glimpse was a good reminder of what it’s like to be 13 year old girl and how hard life is when you’re a teenager. It made me appreciate being 31, not 13.