Wear Sunscreen
Mary Schmich
If I could offer you
only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long term
benefits of sunscreen have been probed by scientists, whereas the rest
of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering
experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you can imagine.
Don't
worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective
as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never
crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 P.M. on some
idle Tuesday.
Do
one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don't
be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are
reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don't
waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're
behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.
Remember
compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing
this, tell me how.
Keep
your old love letters. 
Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don't
feel guilty if you don't know what to do with your life. The most
interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with
their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still
don't know.
Get
plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're
gone.
Maybe
you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you
won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken
on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate
yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half
chance. So are everybody else's.
Enjoy
your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what
other other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever
own.
Dance,
even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read
the directions, even if you don't follow them.
Do
not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get
to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be
nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the
people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand
that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on.
Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the
older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were
young.
Live
in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in
Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept
certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will
philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do you'll fantasize that
when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and
children respected their elders.
Respect
your elders.
Don't
expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe
you'll have a wealthy spouse. But
you never know when either one might
run out.
Don't
mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look
like 85.
Be
careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it.
Advice
is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from
the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling
it for more that it's worth.
But
trust me on the sunscreen.