Saturday afternoon. Following my very late arrival home the night before, a classic curfew argument ensues. My mother refuses to wait up past 2 a.m. I say she doesn't need to. After all, I am 19. I've survived my freshman year at college. I'm old enough to handle myself now. We're briefly interrupted by the mail delivery. I pick it up, sulking. Health insurance bill. Retirement newsletter. Credit statement. Mortgage information. Sorting out my Vogue, I hand the rest to my mother and silently thank God I still have a few years left to grow up.
Watching two stunning, adorable teenage girls walk by one day, I lamented to my longtime friend, Suzanne: "Why is it that when I was slender and cute like that, I didn't realize it? I should have enjoyed it. I wasted so much energy worrying about the wrong things." "Well, I'm sure that a lot of people told you that you were attractive, but you argued with them," Suzanne replied, adding, "You're attractive now." "Oh, please!" I scoffed. "Just look at me." She shook her head knowingly and said, "Nothing has changed in 30 years."
Find a way to give insight into your life in under 100 words. Authors of selected entries will be notified and paid $100. Send text (accompanied by a home phone number) via e-mail (email@example.com), fax (202-334-5587) or mail (Style, Life Is Short, 1150 15th St. NW, Washington, D.C. 20071).