At eighteen-years old, I am not even thinking about twenty or thirty years from now because, honestly, I don’t know how I’ll look in twenty or thirty years.
One thing’s for sure, I’ll probably have kids and be too lazy to work out, so “yay” to being fat. But right now, I have to worry about an unbearable underbite like Michelle Obama, but at least she has money for surgery to change that in a day. I am going to have to go through the torture of braces. I can’t wait!
And let’s not even get into talking about my wide feet. My feet are so wide I have to get shoes custom made, so imagine twenty years from now. Thinking about it makes me have a headache.
And if that’s not bad enough, I am the laziest person when it comes to shaving my legs. My legs are so hairy, like the infamous Sasquatch. Don’t tell anyone, but people sometimes mistake me for Bigfoot’s daughter.
If all those things don’t get to you, my dad has this Daddy-knows-best attitude, so he convinced me that it doesn’t matter how you look. People will accept you for who you are, but not when you wear dorky glasses. I have really bad eyes, and I can’t see a darn thing, so I have to wear around these geeky glasses that make people laugh at me. Dad knows best? That’s a laugh.
So, after writing this, in twenty or thirty-years, I realize I won’t be lazy, and I’ll work out every day, and shave my legs, too. I also will get braces, so I can have a beautiful smile like Jessica Alba. And there is nothing I can do about my wide feet, so I guess I got to just deal with it. And I’ll get contacts, so I don’t need to walk around with this magnifying glass on my face.
In thirty years, I can’t wait to see myself!