My Daughter Wants a Tattoo

Dear Robin:

Our only child Kate is entering her junior year of college. She is doing very well and averaging a 3.8 while carrying more than a full course load to graduate early.

Her dad and I invested over the years and her college fund is healthy and should last until she graduates. He controls the money and Kate lives at home and works during the summers and breaks to save money.

Last month Kate casually mentioned that she was going to get a tattoo on her wrist in memory of her best friend who died last year in a car wreck. Both her father and I think this is a terrible idea, but her dad has told her he would stop funding her college education if she gets the tattoo.

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Stepdaughter Tweeting Twouble.

Dear Robin,

My stepdaughter Tracy needs guidance. She is a lovely girl, a senior in college, and a bit of a late bloomer emotionally at 23.

For her senior year she has chosen to room with two members of the football team, both about twenty years old, and one of them connected through family friends growing up. The young men are both VERY serious about their education and their studies.

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Should I Call Off My Engagement? (Reader’s Digest Version)

Readers:

As promised, here is the short version.

Dear Robin:

I’m a 28-year-old college student recently engaged (wedding next summer) to my partner “Jim” of 5 years whom I love fiercely and until a week ago could see myself perfectly content with for the rest of my life.

Upon announcing our engagement, my ex boyfriend and the love of my life (“Scott”) called to congratulate me but then announced he still cares deeply for me. We were together for years, but split because of significant mental health issues (me bipolar, him depression). Now, 7 years later, we are both healthy.

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Why Did You Do That, Robin?

Dear Readers:

Yes, I understand this is Monday, not Friday and therefore Friday Feedback, but I can’t sit on these thoughts until the end of the week.  It’s not simply that I’m bursting to express myself like a new mother stuck in a long meeting, but also that my 45-year-old brain has been incredibly forgetful as of late.  

If I don’t write this down today I’ll lose it into the ether of middle-aged forgetfulness, where it can be reunited with my glasses, my car keys and the reason I exit my office to go downstairs every few hours, only to wonder what the hell I am doing there.

Let’s just dive right in because this is a very touchy subject (ha!) and I’d rather not pussyfoot around before forcing my views on you (double ha!).

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