Dear Teen Me: Authors Write Letters to Their Teen Selves (True Stories) (13 page)

I wonder: Was it really Love, with a capital
L
? I’m still not sure, but it was the first time you thought about wanting to kiss another person. The first time your palms got sweaty when you were standing next to someone else. And the first time you were forced to admit that these “firsts” were happening because of another guy.

I don’t even remember his name. Can you believe that!? But I can see his face so clearly it’s as if I’m back onstage, dressed as Barnaby Tucker in the musical
Hello, Dolly!
and he’s standing right next to me dressed in a brown plaid wool suit, his curly blonde hair spilling out from underneath his cap, as we’re about to perform the song “Femininity.” (Isn’t that an ironic title?!)

During the song, you had to do a barrel roll over this guy’s back and then jump back on top of him. You were short and he was quite tall and muscular and you loved the view of the world when you were holding onto his shoulders. And you never wanted to let go. You developed a powerful crush on him. So powerful and eye-opening that you never told another soul. You kept silent simply because you were too embarrassed and ashamed. And when he would smile at you and ask how you were doing, you would lie and say that you were fine.

This started you on a long and successful career of lying. Of keeping the truth about yourself hidden. You kept the fact that you were gay a secret for a very
long time and it stunted your emotional growth. You had no idea how to form an honest, adult relationship, because you couldn’t form an honest relationship with yourself. And you didn’t know how to act with other guys because you never took chances. I don’t think you should have professed your undying love to your onstage partner, but you definitely should have looked yourself in the mirror and been honest. You should have told yourself that these feelings you had were real. And you should have confided in your parents, or talked with Rob or Don—your closest friends—and asked them to share some of the burden that you were carrying; that’s what family and friends are there for. You shouldn’t have tried to do it on your own.

So Michael, if you’re listening, don’t spend time living your life in a vacuum. Reach out to someone you can trust—a parent, a teacher, a friend—and tell them what’s going on inside your brain and your heart. Don’t worry about how they’ll react; they may be surprised, and they may not understand, but at least they’ll know.

Which means that no matter what, you won’t ever be alone again.

Janet Gurtler

Dear Teen Me,

It’s kind of a rush isn’t it—how thin you’ve become? It started with that boy you’d been crushing on. Your best friend asked him what he thought of you, and in response he reversed the words from the punk rock song by the Monks you all loved so much: Instead of “Nice legs. Shame about her face,” he sang, “Nice face. Shame about her legs.”

Wow! That comment hurt so much you couldn’t breathe for a minute, and a shamed blush stained your cheeks. You hated being the chubby one in a family full of thin kids, and suspected that your size made you inadequate in some way. Teasing sucked, but this was different. This was from a boy you liked. And it was devastating to your already fragile ego. So a diet followed and the weight dropped off.

And for the first time now you’re actually skinny. What a trip! You feel powerful, and really in control. I can see why it’s hard to say no to the attention—the positive attention—that the weight loss gets you. You start hanging out with the popular girls again, as if thinness makes you worthy, but inside you feel empty. Physically and emotionally. They love how skinny you’ve become, though, all those thin girls. When one of them brags about fitting into a pair of your jeans you feel like you’ve made it. Like your thinness is something to be desired.

Unfortunately, taking it off isn’t the hard part. Starving yourself is sustainable for a while, but it’s hard to keep up. You’re basing your worth on how many calories you consume. And so now, when you do eat, it’s pure guilt. Which leads to binges, and more guilt. And then you’re starving yourself again. You’re caught up in a vicious cycle.

But then another skinny girl at school shares a secret with you: throwing up. You try it, but you’re not very good at it. That makes you feel like even more of a failure, and the weight piles back on again, but I’m so happy now that you couldn’t make yourself do it. It’s a dangerous, dangerous way to live, and some people who do it wind up so malnourished that they can even die.
But take a look at yourself right now. You’ve got a lot more life in you, and if you look hard enough, you’re going to find a person with strength and real tenacity.

Being skinny seems like a path to happiness, but it’s not. Trust me. Hang in there. There’s not one defining moment when it all changes, but gradually you’ll come to believe that you’re kind of okay. You’re actually going to kind of rock at middle age (if you do say so yourself). It’s a great time for you (and it’s not as far off as you might think). Remember how you always felt like an old woman lived inside you? Well, you’ll grow into your skin, just like you predicted. You’ll worry about your weight on and off your whole life, but it won’t define you. Not like it does now. In fact, you’ll have a pretty good time. You’ll have friends who value you for more than your size, and you’ll accomplish things that have nothing to do with how you look.

Someday you’re even going to meet a boy who thinks you’re beautiful—even with no makeup and with some extra weight. You’ll marry him. He’s going to love you no matter how you look. Because of who you are.