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9780743267786

Boys Will Put You on a Pedestal (So They Can Look Up Your Skirt) A Dad's Advice for Daughters

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  • ISBN13:

    9780743267786

  • ISBN10:

    0743267788

  • Format: Paperback
  • Copyright: 2005-05-11
  • Publisher: Simon & Schuster
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Summary

Life can be pretty tricky when you're a teenage girl.New things matter: Clothes. Parties. Boys. Suddenly being liked and being popular don't mean the same thing. Your parents get completelybizarrewhen the subject of dating comes up. A friend you've had forever stabs you in the back for no good reason. Everybody you know seems to feel free to comment on your constantly changing body. Drugs and alcohol go from being what you see "bad" kids doing on television shows to what you see your friends doing when no adults are around. How are you supposed to deal?Since life doesn't come with a set of instructions, it helps to turn to people who have been through the stuff that you're facing. Even parents can help. (Really!) InBoys Will Put You on a Pedestal (so they can look up your skirt),former teenage boy -- and current dad of two daughters -- Philip Van Munching helps guide you through some of life's most confusing topics. From Beauty to Grief, from Sex to Fate, Van Munching covers the things you most want to know about and, in his wise, warm, and funny way, offers advice on how you can become the young womanyoumost want to be.

Author Biography

Philip Van Munching is the author of two previous books. His political and social commentary has appeared on the Op-Ed pages of The New York Times and the Chicago Tribune. He also writes the "Devil's Adman" column for Brandweek. He and his wife, Christina, live with their daughters in New York City.

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The Used, Rental and eBook copies of this book are not guaranteed to include any supplemental materials. Typically, only the book itself is included. This is true even if the title states it includes any access cards, study guides, lab manuals, CDs, etc.

Excerpts

Introduction: If I Stepped in Front of a Bus

I'm not entirely sure whether it's a sign of pragmatism or just an advanced stage of whistling in the dark, but as I get older I seem to be having a lot more conversations that begin with this: "If I died tomorrow..." Actually, that's not quite right. Other people put it that way. I like to be more folksy. I always say, "If I stepped in front of a bus tomorrow..."

Which almost turned into a prophecy on a warm afternoon some months back, when I very nearly did just that. I damn near stepped in front of a bus.

It wasn't the bus that almost killed me, at least not at first. It was the panel truck that the bus blocked from my view. I stepped off the curb of Fifth Avenue and Thirty-third Street, certain that I could cross against the light; certain that I'd gauged the speed of the M3 bus correctly and, with just a slight jog, I would be on my way to the subway that much faster. Somewhere between being right in front of the driver and having cleared the bus entirely, I realized my mistake -- and I stepped backward as the truck blew past me. I stepped backward into the path of the bus. There was a horn; I can't tell you whether it was the truck's or the bus's, or whether it was just the noise adrenaline makes when it's being pumped to one's every extremity at once, because I remember only the sound. And I remember the sound only because it somehow wove itself into the intense and immediate sense of panic I felt. I don't even recall looking at the bus driver or how my legs got me back to the west side of Fifth Avenue. I know only that the bus kept going, missing me by a very little bit, and I got back to where I started.

Here's an interesting medical theory: If the heart races to five trillion beats per minute, short-term memory ceases to function. Maybe it's a problem of blood flow.

However I avoided becoming a part of New York City's asphalt, the important part of the story is not that I was lucky (and how!) nor that I was incredibly stupid (guilty as charged, Your Honor), but rather that my goose was very nearly cooked. This was suddenly for me not some lofty conversation about how I would like to be remembered, this was"OhmygodI nearly widowed my wife and left my children fatherless." This was also the first time I could ever recall feeling the need to do a little inventory on that part of the soul where regrets are stored.

And you know what? I couldn't find any. While there were plenty of things I felt bad about, and even more that still make me flush with embarrassment, there was nothing that had any urgency to it. Nothing that I hadn't done that would've caused me to lose