My religion class at school was that class where we did things like write letters to our future selves, snippets of meditation (the teenage attention span isn't that long, the hormones get in the way) and create collages of us as nippers where we had to guess who was who. And I hated this game.
I was one of those kids who 'grew into themselves'. My family referred to my baby self as football head or butter ball. I wasn't the most delicate or finely featured of creatures.
But luckily for this pop star, she didn't suffer from the same football headed affliction. Cheryl recently posted this #tbt pic on her Instagram and I did an involuntary aaaaw sound.
And yet she managed to grow into herself even more as the years went by.
Butter Ball wept.