It’s the Ghost of Alexandra’s past, here. I hope your 30s are off to a great start and your body is bangin’ (I’m working out 5 days a week right now to make that last part a reality). I’m writing to you at age 23, newly-graduated from college, and in the immortal words of Taylor Swift’s timeless, pop ballad “22” (eh, close enough): I’m happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time. It’s a cocktail of emotions, and can sometimes be a bit overwhelming, in both the best and worst way possible. Over the last several years, many of the adults in my life have imparted words of wisdom that suggest your 30s are a much better experience, because that’s when you supposedly “stop giving a shit about what people think of you.” For right now, though, I’m still trying to figure out what to do with my degree(s), so that I can finally have a concrete answer to give to my elderly relatives at family reunions when they ask me what my plan is for the future. This is where you come in.
My hope for you is that you haven’t lost your sense of humor or the ability to remain calm and level-headed, regardless of the circumstance. And, dare I say, maybe even venture to be a little optimistic every once in a while? I hope your self-confidence is untouchable and that you know your true worth as a friend, sister, daughter, and woman. It’s a daily struggle, but I’m getting a little taste of what that feels like right now. After struggling with body image issues for so many years in private, I can honestly say that I feel myself changing for the better, and it’s a magnificent sensation. My dreams seem so far away right now — a distant reality — but I know that with hard work and determination I’ll be able to achieve everything I’ve ever wanted to.
See you soon (but not too soon),