I wish I had Teen Vogue in 1997

It seems Teen Vogue articles are shared in my 40-something circles a lot lately. Back in the day (aka 1997) I was a Seventeen reader. Like every month, without fail. And Teen Bop. And Teen Magazine. And when I was a little older, Mademoiselle. I devoured them. Hoping somewhere in those pages I'd unlock the mystery of popularity, guys, fashion, weight loss. Perhaps the most vivid memories I have are of the makeovers. These Plain Jane girls transformed with just a haircut and some makeup. Their lives somehow fixed with just a new look. And so I submitted applications for makeovers. This was back when you had to actually take photos with a camera, get them developed, and hope they turned out. Before selfies were a thing. I remember finding spots where I could prop the camera up and run to get settled while the timer beeped, to embarrassed to ask for help taking photos.

I never did get selected for a makeover

I never did get selected. Not pretty enough to even be the Plain Jane for a makeover, I thought. I think back to that now and wonder what it would have been like to have had access at that age to what's in Teen Vogue now. To know that I didn't have to hide my interests in nature or injustices or the wider world. To know that there were other ways to find community that didn't involve winning a makeover. But the reality is that I should have known that even back then. My parents did everything they could to inoculate me against the social pressures I would face. And yet I still got sucked in. To this day I still get sucked in.

I wish I'd had an example that said it was okay to care about more

I'm not blaming the magazines I chose to read. I'm still fascinated by fashion and probably would have been even without those magazines. I've accepted that as part of who I am. I only wish I'd had an example that helped me accept the other pieces as part of who I am much earlier on too. An example that said it was okay to care about more than just boys and clothes and lip gloss. An example that didn't lean on a makeover to cure all ills. An example that showed me how to speak up for what I believed.

It would have saved a whole lot of tears

It would have saved a whole lot of tears in changing rooms and heartache over feeling like I didn't fit in. It would mean that things I'm struggling to say at 40 might have come easier at 20. That maybe I wouldn't have spent the last 20 years second guessing myself. That maybe I'd realize I wasn't so Plain Jane after all.

It's time to use our voices, makeovers be damned

So what now? For me, it's time to stop wishing for that makeover, wondering what might have been different, waiting for the right moment to say what's on my mind. I still have that voice, even if it was drowned out for all these years. It's time to use it, makeovers be damned.