Surviving Adolescence--Female Style

Can there be such thing as an adolescent girl expert? I doubt it, but I’d like to throw my hat into the ring with some thoughts on girls. After all, I’m “well practiced” when it comes to the psyche of the adolescent female. First off, I was one (or as some might say, I’m a survivor). Dickens, in his classic novel, A Tale of Two Cities, accurately sums up the memories of my teen years—It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I look back with selective fond memories, but wouldn’t return for a million dollar check hand delivered by Mr. Darcy himself (okay, I’m a liar…but this would never happen, so back to my point). Wouldn’t. Wanna. Re-live. Period!

Further endorsing my girl-expert credentials, I was raised in a household of seven sisters (my brother, Rob’s personal estrogen nightmare). I am also the mother of five daughters, ranging in age from 11 to 26. And for the cherry-chapstick on top, the main characters of seven of my eight published novels are teen or pre-teen girls (okay, one is half-faerie, but she’s a female adolescent half-faerie).

However you want to look at it, I know a thing or two about the mind of adolescent girls.

And in case you were wondering how we even classify the boundaries of adolescence, it’s a little sketchy. One online dictionary defines it as, a state of development prior to maturity. Goodness! With this definition, I know some forty and fifty year old adolescents (including myself at times). For all intents and purposes, let’s just say, 11 to 26—the ages of my own female posterity.

So here is my profound thought on girls…

Being an adolescent girl is both wonderful and difficult. (I know--deep!)

To quote my friend Dickens again from where we left off: it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way.

Okay…well, maybe that’s taking it to the extreme, but for some, I’d venture to say not. With the ups and downs of not only a maturing body, but a maturing intellect, adolescence is simply TOUGH!

So if I could impart one simple truth to my daughters and to all females—one bit of information to carry through life, to lift you up and empower you, and to make it all better at the end of a really long day—it would be this:

You are a daughter of God. Royalty. A princess! Not the tiara wearing princess, but a legacy bearing princess.

Wear this title with pride, and live up to your divine legacy by showing and giving yourself love and respect. In doing so, you will attract those into your life who will return this love and respect. They will see your true value—some have said which is far beyond rubies. This value--your value--can never be measured in a number (a GPA, a weight on a scale, an IQ, an income) because you, My Dear, are not only a Princess...

You are Amazing.

You are Adored.

You are Creation At Its Best!

and

YOU ARE PRICELESS!

Tamra Torero is Wife to Paco, Momma to nine, Grandma of two, Bakery Manager, author of Shayla Witherwood: A Half-Faerie Tale and co-author of a Christmas novel,The Lost Son, with her son, Preston Norton. Though never a prom queen, or homecoming princess, or even barn dance queen (yes, her high school had one), she has worn the Burger King crown on many occasions and considers herself a survivor of adolescence.

Kate Middleton and Me

Last week, new mommy, Kate Middleton, and her precious bundle of royal joy were on the cover of every magazine on the planet. Oh, that lucky little George—he won life’s gene-pool lottery (thank you Grammy Diana), along with the “Brangelina” spawn and a few other fortunate folks.

Now, as handsome as my own “folks’ are (love you Mom and Dad), I’ve never been one who could look in the mirror and say, “Shazaaayam—I look good!” Like so many other females, in my reflection I tend to find a whole lot’a room for improvement. If I only had thicker hair, fuller lips, and thinner…everything! Is that too much to ask?

This isn’t exactly the healthiest thought process, but it’s what we do. It’s what I do. And it’s no bueno. Even my rational forty-something mind knows this, and yet I’ll still look at a model in a magazine, then glance down at my bottom half and think, for the love of fudge-covered Oreos, why wasn’t I born with legs extending to my armpits? Where is the justice?

I have more thoughts on gene-pool injustice, but for now, let’s shift our focus back to Mommy Kate…

So the other day, as I stood in the grocery store checkout line gazing at Kate’s radiant countenance on every magazine cover, something struck me as…well, pretty awesome! I happened to notice a part of me in Mommy Kate (and, no, I’m not referring to the fact that I’ve walked out of the hospital with babe in arms more than your average woman).

You see, Kate and I actually have one other thing in common—we have the same nose.

We do!

I swear!

I know what you’re thinking—so what.

Well, I’ll tell you what. You see, I’ve never actually looked at my nose as a particularly attractive asset. It starts out okay near the face. And the nostrils are proportionate, etc. But the dang thing ends in a ball. Yup—I have a little round ball at the end of my nose…and so does Kate…and my dad, and his mom, and just about every other sibling and Keller cousin I have, thankyougrandma! (Coincidentally, Grandma Keller was born in England. Can you say Cousin Kate? I can (not Middleton) but Keller, and she just had a baby with Kate Middleton’s nose as well)!

Now, the inner critic in me initially wanted to say, Why Kate’s nose? Why couldn’t I have Kate’s long glossy hair, or perfect white teeth, or at least her postpartum figure for crying-out-loud? But the nose it is, so the nose, I will take…and be happy about.

And isn’t that the key anyway—to be happy with our unique God-given characteristics? Some things we have some control over (our weight, for example, and I mention this only because four years ago I was able to lose 50 pounds and have kept it off for the most part—but that’s another blog for another day). Other things, however, are left up to life’s little game of gene-pool roulette. And if Grandma has a “distinct” nose, chances are, you will too.

And that’s okay—be happy with it! Because some day you’ll find it staring back at you and you’ll realize you’re looking at royalty! And no—I’m not talking about the future Queen of England.

I’m referring to you—a daughter of God.

The Daughter of a King.

Tamra Torero is Wife to Paco, Momma to nine, Grandma of two, Blogger, Bakery Manager, author of Shayla Witherwood: A Half-Faerie Tale and co-author of a Christmas Novel, The Lost Son with her son, Preston Norton. In college she was told more than once that she resembled Glenda the Good Witch...who is kinda-like royalty. If you enjoyed this post, purdy-please won't you share it? :)