Advice To My 24-Hours-From-Now Self

I’ve seen on the interwebs, letters from 40, 50, 60-year-old selves and beyond offering advice to their 16-year-old self, or 10, or 12… it doesn’t really matter. Our older selves are not just older but you wiser. This I know is true.

But you know what is also true? That’s a few decades too long to wait for information that could be utilized right now.

Both 16 and 60-year-old me doesn’t need any more regrets, 50-year-old me already knows about regret and it involves a bottle of wine, a forehead pimple, scissors, and a new set of bangs. And quite frankly, 16-year-old me is never coming back, nor is her purple eyeliner of Farrah Fawcett hair.

Instead, this letter is to 24-hours-from-now Sharon. 24-hours-from-now Sharon can actually use this information, because sometimes Sharon-right-this-very-second can be an asshole and could probably use a few reminders.

Dear ’24 Hours From Now’ Me,

Smile more.
Laugh more.
If you are about to say something negative, wait ten seconds before you let it come out of your mouth.
Go for that run. You’ll feel better.
Stretch. Daily.
Get away from the computer.
Go for a walk.
Listen to understand, not just to respond.
Put on sunscreen, Magda.


Be patient.
Be kind.
Take the nap.
Snuggle with your kids every chance you have.
Those kids you’re snuggling with? Don’t give them the password to your iTunes account.
Wear the bathing suit. Nobody gives a shit.
Give someone a compliment.
Be a cheerleader for those you love.

That includes you.

p.s. You still haven’t gone for that run. Get off your ass.

p.p.s. Read this again tomorrow.

p.p.p.s. You’re out of wine again.

p.p.p.p.s. It’s hot as hell and humid, you’re going to need this for your new bangs, dumb ass.

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