Dear Daughter,

Before you appear on “The Bachelor,” please remember:

One glass of water for every glass of wine. Pace yourself, honey.

Your nana is watching.

Don’t be the one who shows up wearing a banana costume or riding a miniature white mule on the first night. If the producers ask the group who wants to show off their great sense of humor, politely decline.

If you want to kiss him, fine. But remember where those lips have been.

Wear sunscreen.

Be confident. You’re the one who’s a catch!

Watch out for Chris Harrison. I’m worried he could be the devil.

Please consider the height of your heels. Wobbly will read as drunk.

Let’s rethink the running-jump-into-his-arms-and-wrap-your-legs-around-him hug. It’s just a bit awkward.

Don’t let the hot tub get too hot, if you know what I mean. (Did I mention that your nana is watching?)

Get some sleep.

Try to get along with the other girls — even the one who showed up in the banana costume.

Don’t practice saying your first name with his last name on camera. It just looks a little desperate, sweetie. (You can practice in the shower instead.)

Chew with your mouth closed.

The nice girl always wins. Except for that one time (Courtney Robertson). Don’t be her.

Don’t be the girl who wears makeup to bed in case the cameras are there early the next morning. You’re beautiful without makeup anyway.

Regarding the fantasy suite, can I just say please make smart decisions. Smart stuff is your jam.

Pack cocktail dresses, not prom dresses, for the rose ceremonies. Please think twice about anything with rhinestones or nude pantyhose material. This isn’t the Ice Capades.

If you bring him home to meet us during hometown dates, I promise to be nice… and to try to make your father be nice.

If the boy says he loves you, that isn’t the same as a proposal. See Bachelor #20, Ben Higgins.

Stand your ground. Remember that you need to pick him as much as he needs to pick you.

And finally, if you’re going out, aim for second runner-up because then you get to be the Bachelorette!

Wishing you love, happiness, and at least one helicopter ride,

Your mother and biggest fan

 

Jessie Keppeler
A Maine native, Jessie migrated down the coast to Boston after college, and it’s been home ever since. She has lived in various corners of the city — from Allston and Brighton to Newbury Street and then Jamaica Plain — before settling in Brookline with her husband and three daughters. As much as she loves home now, she also likes to leave occasionally: recent family travels include Italy, Belize, and Washington D.C. Jessie writes with a cat curled up nearby and a dog at her feet. And a cup of coffee. Always.