I'm proud of you.
Maybe that's how I should begin this, because there are other days, other years, when this letter would have started off much differently.
All you want right now is to be beautiful. That's the bottom line. Which is shallow, but true. You wake up and look in the mirror, all the while begging God to make you half as pretty as your older sister. That would be sufficient, you tell Him. You ask your mom to please please please get you contacts so you can finally throw away your glasses. You explain to her if you have contacts nobody will notice the giant braces that are taking over the entirety of your mouth. The braces come off eventually. It'll be worth it, I promise.
You're worried about a lot of things right now.
All your life people have told you what a good girl you are, and you secretly wish you could be anything but. You feel there is a mountain of expectations upon you, and let’s be honest with one another for a moment, you’ve placed most of these expectations on yourself. I want you to know there will be grace when you screw up. Grace and consequences. But mostly grace.