10 Things I Would’ve Told My 23 Year Old Self

I loved being 23! It was a nice age to be old enough to be considered an actual adult, but still young enough to get away with juvenile antics like rocking up to work still heavily intoxicated… and not giving a single fuck because you were just temping and still hadn’t figured out what you wanted to do with your life. Just over a year ago I wrote a post about My 16 year old self and things I would tell me if I had a Delorean time machine and a lighting bolt that could generate 1.21 gigawats in order for me to go back and have a word with myself. So for the sake of consistency and the fact that I’m feeling super nostalgic right now, I thought I would list 10 things I would have told my 23 year old self…


Stop drinking Malibu and coke. It’s not your friend and you’re no longer 15! Oh and FYI… The sweet taste of the coconut rum still on your breath from the night before, will one day make you puke so hard into your parents kitchen sink that you ruin Mother’s Day.


However do take advantage of your body’s amazing coping abilities when it comes to hangovers. Because honey when you hit 30, 3 day hangovers are all kinds of bullshit.


Seriously stop fancying boys. You’re a lesbian! Like a big one.


Do not listen to your idiotic friend who just got disowned by his dad for being gay, when he convinces you to come out to your ‘unsuspecting’ mother on the telephone. Worst. Idea. Ever.


Make use of the house landline phone a lot more even though to admit you still have one is an embarrassment. Especially when having really mature fights with your friends and family. You will miss slamming down the handset with rage! There is no satisfaction in furiously pressing ‘end call’ on a touch screen mobile.


Seriously stop fancying straight girls! They will only love you when they’re drunk and break your heart when they’re done experimenting.


You will still have no idea what you really want to do with your life when you reach 30. Soz about that. Totally my fault. You will however have lots of photos of super fun times littered on social networking sites to make up for the hollow feeling of underachievement. Every cloud and all…


Being single is not horrific because you’re still a child. So get a grip, turn off James Blunt’s album and stop writing suicidal poetry fantasizing about something you have no concept of. Just be patient… you’ll get there. And when you do… it will still make no sense! Not even a little bit.


Stop putting really sentimental old photos of your friends and family in your wallet. Just like the one of you and your dad when you’re 4… you know… the totally irreplaceable one?! Because you WILL continue to lose your purse and you WILL continue to cry your eyes out every time you leave it on a bus or that fecking taxi into town until you learn your lesson!


Your hairstyle is trying to be Destiny’s Child with your weaves and braids and shit! But your dress sense is channeling All Saints circa 1994. Stop trying so hard. You’re still gonna look like a car crash when you’re older, but the difference is… you just won’t care as much!

If you had to write your younger self a letter... what would you say? Or would you just sit back and let them Forest Gump it to the age you are now?!

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