peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

Does this outfit/dress/blouse/sweater/pair of jeans/jacket make me look fat?

Chances are. Yes. We know when we look in the mirror if we are feeling confident with our looks and our choices in outfits. So why do we waste our time asking our husbands/boyfriends/partners if we look fat or not.

If your buttons are gaping; your sleeves dig into your arms; your muffin top runneth over; or you’re just not skinny enough for skinny jeans, then don’t even ask.

Do we really need men to validate our looks and reassure us (even with a fake), “Nah, Sweetie, you look GREAT.” Yeah, kinda.

Here are six more questions that should just be left unasked:

1. Do I have more wrinkles than last year?
2. Do you like my hair better short or long?
3. Where do you want to go for dinner?
4. Do you think the banana bread was dry?
5. How do you like the new outfit I just bought?
6. I bought a new lamp. Do you like it?

Why bring attention to inferior beauty problems? Why focus on the negatives? Why call attention to the extra money spent?

Instead, look in the mirror and smile at yourself. And answer your own questions:

1. Put on the wrinkle cream in private.
2. Wear that new hairstyle with sass—whether short or long.
3. Pick a restaurant that serves beer on draught; he’ll be happy.
4. If you think the banana bread is dry, smear a little butter on it and maybe some peach jam and serve it with a smile. And a glass of water.
5. Wear the new outfit with confidence and save the “outfit talk” for your girlfriends.
6. Give the old lamp to Goodwill. Without a word. He may not even notice.

Some of this “talky talk” is better saved for girlfriends. Or not. Sometimes you may not really want to know what they really think either.

So it seems to me, that if a parent of a child who plays on a recreational soccer team really wants her child to receive a trophy–regardless of how well (or not so well) the child played during the season–she needs to pay for it. The whole thing. I’ll explain in a bit.

First off, I’m fine with giving out fake trophies. You know, not fake gold, but fake as in “these trophies don’t have meaning but are a symbol of completion.” Back in the day, we didn’t get trophies unless we won championships or tournaments. Or if we were singled out in high school as playing above-and-beyond. Shout out for me: I received Most Inspirational in tennis in high school. (Are you laughing at me?) I do realize that “Inspirational” has nothing to do with skill.

As a coach of youth soccer–six-year-old boys–I try to do the right thing. And if the parents want trophies, I will order them and collect money from the parents and then hand them out at the end of the season. I really do hate ponying up money ahead of time and then asking for reimbursement. It is belittling and makes me look desperate. But, oh well, it’s all part of being a volunteer coach. So, I find a good deal, supporting a local trophy shop, and place the order. The trophies are a great deal, at $6.43 each. I send the email to the parents explaining that I ordered them and to please pay me at practice.

Then I have to remind them at several practices and several games to please pay me. Now, I’m a nag (see post on being a nag). A nag pestering for a measly $6.43.

Finally, the parents pay. But one parent paid only $12 for two trophies, as if buying multiples gives her a discount. Shortchanged. Chumped again. I don’t really need the money (but some of these parents drive Range Rovers). I don’t really need the extra $.86 either. It’s the principle.

I should have broken off the trophy player’s arm or something and handed that out at our end-of-season celebration. Because, really, if you don’t pay the full amount, you shouldn’t get a total trophy. Hence the saying: “You get what you pay for.”

Kim Kardashian: say it isn’t so! Not the divorce. We knew that was coming. But the spending. I am horrified at the frivolous spending. A few numbers to ponder:

1. Kim and what’s-his-name’s wedding cost $10 million;
2. Kim’s engagement ring cost $2 million;
3. Kim and what’s his-name’s wedding cake cost $20,000.

My jaw continues to drop, especially when this money could help spread goodwill and kindness around the globe. Consider this:

1. The $10 million “wedding” could build every family in Haiti a new home;
2. The $2 million ring could fund more than 66,000 flu vaccinations across the United States;
3. The $20,000 cake could fund ecology sustainability projects in South Africa.

Kim, perhaps you should trade in your $1,000 Louboutin heels. And try walking in someone else’s shoes for once.