Dear K-Fed
In Which Kevin Federline Responds to Readers’ Questions and Concerns, Providing Tidbits of His Own Homespun Wisdom
Dear K-Fed,
I suspect my boyfriend may be cheating on me, but I’m not sure. I think I should confront him, but I’m afraid of what I’ll find out. What should I do?
—L.P. in Topeka
Dear L.P.,
First off, please call me Kevin or Mr. Federline, not K-Fed. Even though “K-Fed” sounds initially like a cool name, I believe the media uses it ironically, as a means of attacking my fame by associating me with other celebrities who have similarly hyphenated or conjoined names and who have recently fallen from grace as a result of overexposure and a widespread perception of narcissism and self-indulgence. “J.Lo” and “P. Diddy” come immediately to mind. Of course, there is a second, more tenuous association: with celebrity couples (think “TomKat” and “Bennifer”) who show a similar level of hubris and self-satisfaction with regard to their own relationship—which relationship, inevitably, ends up in the gutter as a result of the ensuing public backlash. Obviously I don’t want to be associated with either of these two groups! So please, next time, a simple “Kevin” will do.
Regarding your boyfriend: obviously, confront him.
Many thanks, and good luck,
—Kevin
* * *
Dear K-Fed,
My daughter wants to start wearing makeup, but I say twelve is too young to be wearing makeup! How can I convince her to enjoy her childhood while it lasts?
—M.D. in Atlanta
Dear M.D.,
Please read my response to L.P. (above) in which I discuss the name “K-Fed” at some length. That aside, you’ve broached an interesting subject, and one with which I have personal experience. As you may know, at a young age, my wife Britney became quite famous as a result of her hit song “… Baby One More Time.” Critics were upset with her (and her parents, and the culture as a whole) due to the sexual overtones of this music video, in which my wife—then seventeen—could be seen wearing a schoolgirl outfit, complete with pigtails and knee-high socks, bucking her hips forcefully and grinding with a group of high school kids. Now that I have a child of my own, I often ask myself, Would I want to see you, Sean Preston, if you were a girl, gyrating your hips at the age of seventeen, wearing a Catholic-schoolgirl outfit and perhaps sucking on a lollipop or performing different gymnastic moves for all of America to see? And the answer is always a resounding, Yes.
Many thanks, and good luck,
—Kevin
* * *
Dear Mr. Federline,
I think you’re probobly one of the hottest dancers out their I saw you on the Teen Choice Awards and I thought your song was probobly the best one their and I want to know how you learned to dance so hot, one day I would love to be your friend/girlfriend but I know I’m too young but still.
—J.L. in Santa Clara
Dear J.L.,
Thank you for using my proper name—I glad to see my message is finally getting out there! And thank you for your praise. Despite the grammatical errors here and there, your words are so impassioned I couldn’t keep the goose bumps from rising! I am impressed with your keen observations about my performance at the Teen Choice Awards. I must admit that it was a daunting first solo act, but I agree that it came out quite well in the end. Throughout the performance, I kept replaying a conversation I’d had with Justin Timberlake not long ago (contrary to the tabloid reports, Justin and my wife have long since made amends). We were at his summer home in East Hampton, playing squash, when he stopped and said: “You know, Kevin? It’s funny. I used to get really nervous before getting up on stage. I thought the audience was out to judge me, to belittle me. Then one day it hit me: I was really judging myself. I was belittling myself, before they could get to me. Once I realized that, it was like poof, a new man. An artist was born.” All I could think was, Indeed, Justin, my friend. An artist was born indeed.
Many thanks, and good luck,
—Kevin