Oh, man, 12-year-old Me would be so disappointed. "What do you mean, you don't have a boyfriend? Where is my best friend? Wait, where are my other friends? Why don't you have a job! Or a car! Or a house/apartment! Or any published writing! TV cannot possibly be that interesting! You swear sometimes? And WHAT size jeans are you wearing?!"
On the bright side, she'd be happy to see I haven't ruined my long hair, and have never been drunk or smoked anything. She'd love my fabulous collections of books/toys ("you go to garage sales now? Awesome!"), and the fact that the sim horse club is still a huge part of my brain, if not an interactive part of my life. Even though she'd be disappointed by my insufficient creative writing, she'd be overjoyed to find my mountain of journals, and my scrapbooks. And she'd probably be glad I at least graduated from college, picking up a peck of high school awards & a love of band along the way.
But I still think she'd be disappointed by the lack of an adult life plan (and I haven't even told her about my college GPA, or the class I failed).
Voice: Are you kidding? 12-year-old you was all about remaining a kid forever and never growing up. Remember?
RS: Shut up, you don't remember, you weren't even alive yet when I was 12.
Voice: But now I can travel in time.
RS: NO YOU CAN'T.
Voice: Prove it.
RS: The point is, while she would approve my childlike tendencies and how little my interests have changed, she'd be utterly emotionally distraught to hear that my best friend and I stopped speaking instead of lasting forever, and miffed as to how one completely and futilely spins one's wheels after finishing college ("And what do you mean, you took a semester off? Moron!").
Hah, okay, I'm having way too much fun visualizing this conversation now, so I'd better wrap it up.