A Letter To Me Aged 16 (as inspired by the book of the same name...)

Dear Johnny Red Pants,

Come here and give us a hug. You’re a tad fed up under that slightly precocious, slightly loud and slightly annoying façade, aren't you? The people at school aren’t always kind and I know that you’re worried that they might have a point. They call you gay, they call you fat and you have a terrible haircut. At this point in your life you only have three proper friends. Sadly, you count Madonna as one of them.

Here’s the good news: your hair gets better.

Tragically, this won’t be before your last school photo, where you decide to sex up your image by forcing your unruly, feral hair into an off-kilter, side parting – a hair "style" normally reserved for paedophiles or people with unfortunate skin who work the night shift at Asda. Not only will you look horrendous, but the photographer will have a speech impediment and as she says, ‘scha-mile’ (whilst showering you in a pint of her own coffee-flavoured spit), you will simultaneously laugh and grimace. The resulting photo can only be described as a car crash of epic proportions, yet will sum up quite marvellously how you felt about school. But you will look back and laugh. In fact, you’re doing so as you write this.

Okay, here’s the not so good news. You’re always going to struggle with your weight. Perhaps struggle is the wrong word. Put it this way, you will always think of yourself as fat. For the most part, you’re going to be porky. You’ll lose some weight between the ages of 19-25, but like a loyal, rabid dog, it shall return. What’s my point? Oh yeah, you’re never going to have a six pack. You like pies and beer too much. You’ll get over it though. The good thing is that lots of people who call you fat now will be fat in the future. You will see their middle aged images courtesy of social networking sites and you will cackle wickedly and feel like a bitch. A strange sort of retribution, but it will make you feel better all the same. Anyway, don’t diet. It’s a waste of time and money and you will be doomed to failure. It’s also dull, much like looking at someone’s holiday photos, so don’t do that either.

As for the gay thing, well that’s here to stay too. Don’t panic. It’s going to take you a while to accept it, but when you do, you’ll wonder what the fuss was about. I really mean it when I say that being gay is a blessing, not a curse. Gay means happy after all, so go with it, be yourself and if any old pervert offers you a drink, take it but don’t sleep with them. You can if you want, but I wouldn’t if I was you. Which I am, so there. There are a lot of weirdoes out there and you will be excellent at attracting them. Love’s path is a tricky one to navigate and like everyone else, you’ll have your heart smashed up and shit on a couple of times, but you’ll get there in the end. I won’t spoil the surprises in store, but if I can offer you some 24 carat gold advice it is thus: avoid skinny men called Steve and fat men called Gary. Feel free to have a fling with a fat Steve or be flung by a skinny Gary, but NOT the other way around. These two chaps are BAD, BAD, BAD NEWS AND UTTERLY UNWORTHY OF YOUR FABULOUSNESS. And you are a little bit fab, truth be told, hence why now you have a lovely number of lush chums and a lovely Mr Blokey who doesn't mind your chunky bits. (And yes, you do still count Madonna in that number of mates.)

Any more top tips? Hmmm. Let me see. Oh, I know: ignore your gut instinct at your peril. Although knowing you, you probably will. In fact, you do. And when you do and it all goes HORRIBLY, HORRIBLY WRONG, I recommend that you get sleeping tablets from the doctor and wait for the emotional storm to pass, which it will. Just keep in mind that some amazing experiences and adventures will come out of your darkest times. Aged 31, you will go to a clairvoyant, even though you’re not sure you believe in them and she will tell you that you will live and work abroad, that you will come home, find a job that means something to you and fall in love with someone lovely. You won’t believe her, but you should, because she’s absolutely right.

Just don’t drink too much.

Lots of love,


You xx
PS. Eye bag cream doesn’t work. Probably best that you stick your money in a pot and put it towards plastic surgery.