I wish I could adequately describe what 16-year-old Ali was like; it would probably help with perspective. I was filled with THE ANGST. I loved all the boys who didn’t know I was alive; I ignored all of the boys who did. I had a thick forehead full of self-cut bangs that were always too thick, and as my mother called them, rather eskimo-esque. I was uncomfortable in my own skin, and hadn’t yet understood the difference between calories and fat grams, and bagels had become the largest portion of my diet. I covered up the uncomfortable-ness the same way everyone else did; I hid my body underneath oversized flannel shirts. My nose was too big for my face, my arms were too long for my body. I didn’t have the faintest clue how to apply makeup properly. I was shy when I was supposed to be outgoing; I was loud when I was supposed to be quiet. I had good skin but didn’t appreciate it. No matter how many times you tried to fit the pieces together, I was like a puzzle that just didn’t quite match up correctly,

Once upon a time I wrote a letter to that 16-year-old girl. I wanted to tell her some things she should know about her future. And because I am somewhat lazy, or because I am too mortified to go combing through my archives, I am not even going to look back and see what I once said. Trust me, when you have been blogging since the dark ages (or 2004, if we’re getting technical.) there is little more humiliating than a jaunt through the old archives. I should probably set fire to 2004-2007, at least. But I guess, truthfully, it’s the looking back at the things that were less good that really makes me appreciate the things that are better now.

It’s the same for 16-year-old Ali, really. I am able to sit here today and look at my life and turn to her and say, “OH MY GOOD GOD, IT GETS BETTER. You won’t believe how amazing you are at 33.”

And it’s true. I wouldn’t have believed it. If you had told me at 16 that at age 33, I would be responsible for three of the loveliest children ever made, I would be working in downtown Toronto for a magazine, I would have enviable hair, I would know how to use makeup, I would love my body, I would spend a Sunday sitting in the Hazelton Hotel chatting with a director and two actors from a film like it’s no big deal,

I probably would have laughed—awkwardly, no doubt—in your face.

But, 16-year-old Ali. Here is the truth. 

You will love your body, most of the time.

You will learn that bagels are full of empty calories.

You will wear skinny jeans, with confidence. And sometimes they will be green.

You will do what you love and earn a twice-monthly paycheck for it. People will read the words that you write.

You will wish you never started drinking coffee. But you will be thankful that you never started smoking.

You will learn to love a boy who knows you are alive. He will turn out to be the best decision you ever made. He will love you a little more each day.

You will learn that less is more when it comes to makeup and you will learn to rely on the experts behind the MAC counter to show you how to apply it.

You will be a great mom, even during pre-adolescence.

You will learn to drive stick.

You will read The Grapes of Wrath one day. On purpose.

You will discover something called The History Channel. It will change your life.

Your will always have a great ass.

You will side with Claire on the whole sushi thing. (Related: rewatch the Breakfast Club)

You will realize that home hair coloring is NEVER a good idea.

You will move to Canada. (Stop laughing.)

You will still watch The Young & The Restless. But watching it will really make you miss Zayde.

You will see remakes of Footloose and Dirty Dancing. You will not be happy about this.

You will regret using the pliers to remove your braces. You should have allowed your mom to pay for them. Do you know how expensive braces are, Miss Mintz?

You will learn that you did not peak in high school, but Facebook will let you know that some people do. They really, really do.

You will make friends who will change your life.

You will miss the friends who are changing it right now.

You will drive a minivan.

You will be deliriously happy.

You will be amazing.

Even if you don’t feel it now.