I was excited to learn that today's Friday 5 is all about snacks. I could win a gold medal in snacks. I don't like being, heavy, stomach-stretching meals...they cause me to roll around on the ground like a beached manatee and cry. I also say stupid things like, "I'm as full as a bull!" But snacks? Totally different story.

Without further ado...

1. What are your movie-snacking habits and preferences? I like the Kids' Pack. A child-size popcorn (which still feels unhealthily large), Smarties and a small Coke Zero. Runner up: soft pretzel.

2. What are your late-night snacking habits and preferences? I try not to eat late and night, but it usually involves peanut butter out of the jar.

3. What are your sports-watching snacking habits and preferences? Beer and chippies.

4. What are your lonely, rainy afternoon snacking habits and preferences? Hot chocolate or tea with lots of honey and something baked, like banana bread.

5. What’s your favorite carnival/fair snack? I make it a rule not to eat food out of mobile units.

When I was in Grade Four I almost drowned on the first day of swimming lessons. We were divided into groups, and the instructors asked if we could swim or not. The non-swimmers went into the Yellow group and the swimmers went into Orange, Red, Maroon, or whatever based upon their skill level.

I told the instructors I could swim, even though I could barely even float. When it was time to jump in the pool, I leaped in with my mouth, nose, eyes, everything wide open. Water closed over my head and I swallowed about a gallon and flailed around a bunch until one of the instructors fished me out by my bathing suit straps and sent me back to the shallow end and the rest of the Yellow noobs, looking very much like an ashamed drowned rat in a neon-green one-piece.

Why did I say I could swim? I guess I just assumed I'd be able to. When I was little, I figured I could do anything I tried, and do it well-and swimming was no exception. Why not? A) It looked easy enough on TV, and B) Stupider kids than me could do it just fine. You just swirled your arms around and kicked, right? Easy!

In addition to my Situation-sized childhood ego, there was also the bigger problem: when I realized I wasn't an instant expert at something , I didn't want to bother with it anymore. In swimming lessons, I went from being all "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAY SWIMMING! I'M GOING TO BE THE NEXT MICHAEL PHELPS!!" (exceptmichaelphelpsprobablywasntbornyet) to "Meh." If I wasn't going to be the very best at swimming/skiing/art/music/whatever, I immediately lost interest, preferring to stick to what I COULD be the best at...which is why I was the best speller and the uncontested hurdles champion at track and field day from grades one through four. Hurdles and spelling. My talents.

With swimming, over time I grudgingly came around. I passed Yellow, then Orange, then Red, and it wasn't long before I was one of the swimmy kids splashing my way through the Red Cross badges. Unfortunately I have always had a hard time accepting that there's a learning curve to every new thing I try.

The mosst recent example occurred about a month ago when Pete tried to teach me to drive a standard in an empty mall parking lot. Here's the thing, I don't have six hours to sit around after starting the car to make sure I let the clutch out...ever...so...slowly...and...gently...so as not to piss it off and lurch at me. I have places to go! So after half an hour of stalling repeatedly (and failing to get out of first gear) I decide that people who drive stick are all jerks and car manufacturers shouldn't even be making these barbaric pieces of shit anymore. I give up because I can't do it like an expert on the first try.

I know the key is learning to embrace the suckage, to accept that not everyone can be a rock star at every.single.thing. on the first go, and to figure out how to enjoy the process of improving. I just don't know how to deal with being so bad at things like driving stick...and baking bread...and painting pictures. It's too bad adults no longer get spelling tests.

This post was inspired by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. Hop on over to her blog to see other posts from this week's writing prompts!

I think it's disgusting that I was 16 years old THIRTEEN YEARS AGO. Sad faces. That being said, it's getting kind of hard to remember what it was like to be the big one-six, but if I think waaaaaaaay back I can almost recall being a young pup.

For a 16-year-old, I was pretty drama free, which is mostly a side effect of being a bit nerdy and actually enjoying high school. There were still lots of things I agonized over that were completely not worth it. If I could go back and talk to my 16-year-old self, here's some of the things I'd tell her:

1. Dress your age. There's a picture of me and my friends from our grad banquet. My friends are all wearing cute, short sundresses. I'm wearing a twinset and a flowered skirt that reaches my ankles. I kind of look like their mother. There is nothing wrong with slutting it up as a teen, or at least exposing your knees, but I missed my window of opportunity.

2. He's just not that into you. My "boyfriends" in high school were a parade of sporty guys to occasionally hold hands with at noon hour. In addition to dressing like a nun, I had the sexuality of one, too. Whose fault is it that the guys I went to school with were not V-card material?

Anyway, because I was reluctant to get all deflowered, I would get broken up with the "nice" way: via the ignore tactic. My flame du jour would just stop talking to me in an effort to ditch me without hurting my feelings. The non-talkery would continue for one, two, three weeks. No conversations in the halls, no eye contact in class, no phone calls, etc. "Oh yeah, he's just really busy with hockey and work and stuff," I'd tell people when they asked suspiciously why I wasn't hanging around with such-and-such-supposed-boyfriend.

And then, Monday morning rolled around and I found out he'd hooked up with some hussy over the weekend, and surprise, it didn't count as cheating because we'd been actually been "broken up" for weeks. News to me!

3. What these people think really doesn't matter. My biggest source of stress was worrying about what other people thought of me. It wasn't until much later in life that I realized a) I'm never going to see 90% of these people again and b) it never mattered anyway.

4. Do NOT put that shit in your hair! 16 was the year I discovered Sun-In. I'm sure it was about as healthy as pouring a jug of Javex over my head.

5. You are not fat. I wasn't fat, so why did I moan about being fat? Because everyone else was, and that's how 16-year-old girls bond?

6. Don't change who you are for a guy. Over my high school years, some of the things I've faked in order to get guys to like me include:

-The San Jose Sharks are my favourite hockey team! (Not true. It's always been the Maple Leafs.)
-I like football! (I'm decidedly "meh" on football).
-I like beer! (In high school I LOATHED beer.)
-My boobs are at least a C! (What's up, pair of nylons stuffed inside padded bra!)
-I like it when you play your guitar at me! (I HAAAATE having people sing/play at me, to this very day.)
-I loooove action movies! (No. No. No.) And wrestling! (NO.)
-I don't mind the smell of smoke! (I hate the smell of smoke.)
-I have no problem wearing your favourite shirt three times a week! (Pathetic.)

7. Brown lipstick is not a good look. Ditto pencil-thin eyebrows.

8. You are a girl, not a professional basketball player. I should have left the Nike Air Forces and the XL Adidas track pants to the NBA and stopped wearing them to school. Especially with the brown lipstick!

What would you tell your 16-year-old self if you could go back and give her head a shake?