Baby girl, you’re at an age where boys are smirking and staring down your shirt. Before you mistake perverted spurts for flirting, I want you to make sure that your first time isn’t blurry. His words will emerge like something unheard of, and you’ll drink it in until you’re tongue-tied and stirred up, but baby girl, don’t you dare get ******* up and love drunk. I know those muscles are ***** and buffed-up, but you deserve better than some punk in a pick-up. Some chump will try to hush your “I don’t think I’m ready”, so you better speak up louder before things get too heavy. Some hands will hold you, and some hands are deadly. When your hands get too sweaty because you feel unsteady, you push him away because you are a lady. Most guys are shady and will try to degrade you, but you throw back grenades, because that’s how I raised you. You will crave space and he will crave lace, but don’t you ever forget you are not any boy’s playmate. You are not a buffet. You are not a hair-sprayed, bleach blonde cliche. You are graceful, my angel, and anything but plain.  So don’t ever feel like you’re only halfway. When you feel outweighed by the brave girls in tight jeans, remember you’ve got a heart that is just bursting at the seams. These social scenes and dreamy teens are nothing in the scheme of things, so don’t be intrigued by the idea of being the reason for all the senior boys’ wet dreams. Don’t be deceived by how carefree and fun *** seems to be. It is a big deal, and it should always mean something. So feel free to flee if it doesn’t quite feel right. See, when mama thinks of her first time, she kind of loses her appetite. I lost a part of my life to a guy who only loved me part-time. While my mind was being silenced by the liquor, he climbed on top and defied the boundaries of his zipper. So baby girl, if your hips and wrists are ever pinned, don’t you dare give in like your mama did. I forbid you to quit, because I taught you to fight until you win, and I’ll be ****** if you ever have to cry alone like I did. Life is a big bully with big fists, and sometimes you’re going to take a blow to the ribs, but when that happens, you spit the blood on the cement and say, “Hit me again”. Other times, you’re going to feel like you’re too big for this world, like your skin is stretched too thin, but you’re still my baby girl... you’re still just a kid. A kid with knobby knees and sob stories. You’re still small and naive and the thought of you growing makes mama uneasy. But one day, you’ll leave me, and I’ll let you free, because I have to believe that you’re nothing like me. You are everything beautiful in this world that I raised you to be.