Poor Stevie

you’re finally sixteen

Recently I read this. I thought I’d write a letter to my 16-year-old self because I’ve been thinking a lot about her recently. At that time I wasn’t known as Steve or Stevie. I was Stephie G in the grand tradition of Ali G a’ight?

Dear Stephie G,

You’re the smartest person I know. Nice work getting rid of that bitchy friend who stood by and laughed as horrible things happened to you. Also, thanks for ditching the stoner crowd. Imagine how different things could have been – you could have an accidental kid, a bad dye job and an addiction to social security by now!

All your hard work will pay off. All the note-taking, day-long study sessions and melt downs over Ancient Rome will lead to greater things. Things like an amazing three years at uni and a pretty great job. It will give you drive and willpower to get anything you want, like that pretty reluctant guy you will meet in 2004. Don’t worry, you will crush him with your incessant text messages and eventually force him to marry you.

Thanks for being smart with your check-out chick money. Earning so little taught you never to buy designer handbags or shoes or colourful cocktails. Instead, over the years, you op-shopped and drank beer and packed your own lunch. And now, sister, you’re about to blow your savings and explore the world. Holy batman balls!

Love, Stevie.

Leave a reply