Dear Sophie Love Sophie Vol. 2
In December I spent the holiday at my childhood home in Portland and went through my boxes of old diaries and journals because I'm into self-abuse and shame. Then I scanned some of the entries and wrote letters to my past self from the perspective of my current self. You can read those here.
I figured it was time to do that again, whereas there are literally thousands of pages of unaddressed issues, and Past Sophie could use some more comforting tough love. (She was in a default state of outspoken martyred melancholia).
Dear Sophie,
We get it. You're really into surveys. Filling out the Census would be like porn to you. Just for future reference: normally on surveys, "siblings" (that's a fancy word for "brothers and sisters") comes before "pets." Ultimately, "pets" is not that important a category. All of the pets you listed are going to die within a year or two, so maybe don't invest quite so much in them. That's just a recommendation -- you can do whatever you want. One other thing: Trevor was not your boyfriend. I know this pains you, but having a googly-eyed crush on a boy because he fixed the VCR in Mrs. Johnson's room on Thanksgiving does not make him your boyfriend. It makes him, frankly, kind of scared of you.
Love,
Sophie
Dear Sophie,
I gotta hand it to you: this entry is pretty solid. I appreciate your understanding of the importance of dramatic action (yes, going on the water slides is MUCH more interesting than merely seeing them), and truth be told, this diary entry is more helpful than many Yelp Reviews I've read by fully actualized adults. One thing, though: three showers IN ONE DAY? Girl, water is a fading resource. You gotta conserve. Not only is that bad for the planet, it's rough on your baby-like 11-year-old skin. Try one shower every THREE days. You'll make a good impression on hippies, and you'll have more time to chronicle bee stings and stuff.
Love,
Sophie
Dear Sophie,
I don't mean to doubt you. I really don't. But are you SURE you are being COMPLETELY honest in the retelling of this account? Yes, you wanted to be Marilyn Monroe for Halloween. You were, like, really into Marilyn Monroe, and you were super-excited to be her for Halloween. That was not a lie. And yes, Kate DID say in the car that Amy was going to go as Marilyn Monroe the same year. But is it REALLY true that you were MID-SENTENCE ABOUT TO TELL everyone about your costume idea when Kate INTERRUPTED YOU to talk about Amy's costume idea? Really? Because if that REALLY happened, you should probably be remarking on how awesome and unbelievable that coincidence is. Coincidences like those don't happen every day.
Furthermore: you are not friends with Amy. You don't even really KNOW Amy. Amy is your best friend's sister's best friend. There is almost no one on earth whose Halloween costume matters less to you than Amy's. Listen to me: just do you. You are the only one comparing yourself to anyone else. Everyone else is way more concerned with their own Halloweens than they are with your repeat costume.
For the record, Marilyn Monroe is not that creative an idea for a costume. In the future, be funny rather than sexy. That works better with your personality, and sort of balances out that whole woe-is-me thing you have going on so much of the time.
Love,
Sophie
Dear Sophie,
Okay. First of all, bank robbers are felons. To say "bank robber felon" is a little redundant. In the future, practice economy of language and go with just "bank robber."
Alexis is never going to realize that you are "friggin' older than she is" because you do not act older than she is. I wish I could say that this changes as you age, but honestly, now she's making bank at a tech start-up and teaching yoga in Portland, and you are updating your blog while eating tortilla-chip-and-jelly-bean sandwiches. She's an adult. You are six.
But here's what's more important about this situation: stuffing your bra is not actually helping you out at all. You're right that your "fat is not evenly distributed." That's a fact you ought to flaunt, not hide! Your small boobs are amazing. You can run painlessly; you can fit into size small bikini tops; you can wear all the hot summer styles without a bra and offend no one. Small boobs are so terrific that there's a whole industry of porn just for them. Also, padded bras (which are widely accepted as "normal" and even "kind of hot") are basically just pre-stuffed bras, enhanced by professionals. So if you HAVE to, go buy one of those. Stop DIYing it. You're gonna get caught in gym class, and it's gonna be embarrassing. (On a similar note: always wear underwear in gym, even if you think you have a visible panty line. You never know when Daniel Christiansen might flirtatiously pants you. I know that sounds unlikely, but just trust me on this.)
Love,
Sophie
Dear Sophie,
Yikes. This is actually pretty uncomplicated: You have a crush on Marko, the end. That is the whole story here. I've got to hand it to you, you have a real flair for the dramatic: When you write, "She told everyone and they laughed at me through the halls," I think what you meant was, "I didn't want Gillian to know, because she could have told everyone, and I imagined that that's what people might have been laughing about while they stood -- completely unaware of me -- near their lockers." The truth is that no one cares who you have a crush on. Sorry.
However, rethink not going to dances. They're not that bad, and you're only not going to them because you want to tell people you're not going to them. You want people to say, "SOPHIE! GO TO THE DANCE! WE CAN'T IMAGINE A SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT BEING FUN WITHOUT YOU!" No one is ever going to say that to you. Just go to the damn dances like everyone else. You know you secretly want to.
Oh, and Hanson isn't as bad as you think. Nothing as catchy as MMMBop will ever happen again on earth.
Love,
Sophie
Dear Sophie,
NEVER DO THAT TO YOUR HAIR. I WISH IT WAS NOT TOO LATE TO TELL YOU THIS. It is not as cute as you think it is. It really isn't. I have no idea what you see in this look. It looks like she tried to strangle herself with accessories from a '90s-era Claire's store. I wish someone had told you sooner to step away from the bleach bottle, because when you're 18, your hair will start to break in half from too much peroxide and you will smell like the back of the cabinet under the sink.
You're pretty just the way you are. Try to trust me on this. Less is definitely more.
Love,
Sophie