One Day You'll Look Back on This . . . I've learned to take time for myself and to treat myself with a great deal of love and respect 'cause I like me. . . . I think I'm kind of cool. - Whoopi Goldberg I can't go to school like this! I wailed as I stared into my mirror, hating my face, my body and life in general. A river of salty tears traced a path down my cheeks. Summoned from the kitchen by my shrieking, my mother appeared at my side a second later. What's the problem? she asked patiently. Everything . . . just everything! I complained and continued to stare horrified into the mirror. At almost thirteen, the problems that I felt I had were overwhelming. I had a hideous new crop of angry, red pimples that had erupted on my forehead and chin overnightevery night. My hair suddenly looked greasy all the time, even though I washed it every second day. My aching tummy signaled that my newfound friend was about to visit once again, causing my jeans to fit too snugly and make me appear as though I had been eating nothing but hot fudge sundaes. And to top it off, my chewed-up fingernails were torn and bloody, since biting them seemed to go along with the way I worried about how other people perceived me. But everything that was bothering me wasn't just on the surfaceI also had a broken heart. The guy I had been going out with had recently dumped me in favor of an older, more developed girl. Everything combined, I was a physical and emotional wreck. Come on, now, Honey. Try not to cry, my mother said with a smile. I remember what it was like to be your age. It was awkward and frustrating, and I got my heart stomped on, too, but I came through itand so will you! It's not as bad as you think, and once you get to school with all your friends, you'll forget all about your pimples and what's-his-name, and one day you'll look back on this and wonder why you were ever so upset. Convinced that she didn't know what she was talking about, I gave her a dirty look and headed off for school, greeting my girlfriends on the sidewalk while my mother waved encouragingly from the front door. Later, as much as I hated to admit it, I found out that my mother was right. As I spent time with my friends who were going through the same things that I was, my mind wasn't on my troubles anymore, and soon I was laughing. When I returned home later that day, I was in a much better mood and because I had put my best foot forward, my mother rewarded me with a bag of goodies she had purchased from the drugstore. On my bed was a bag that included shampoo and conditioner, some acne medication, a gift certificate to a hair salon and, surprisingly, some hot, new shades of nail polish. What on earth is this? I asked bewildered, thinking that my mother had to be out of her mind if she thought I was going to flaunt my gnarled nails. As it turned out, she had a plan. I thought that it was cruel at the time, yet it turned out to be highly effective. I wasn't allowed t Excerpted from Chicken Soup for the Girl's Soul: Real Stories by Real Girls about Real Stuff by Mark Victor Hansen, Patty Hansen, Irene Dunlap, Jack Canfield All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
