There are a lot of kinds of trophies, Melinda thought. The obvious kind was the cheap plastic ones that everyone gets after a soccer season. They sit in the attic and gather dust. Then there were mementoes of a time or triumph in life, like the Snickers wrapper from Melinda’s first boyfriend. The day after he gave her the candy he gave her her first kiss. Then there were trophies that equaled status symbols, like the Asian trophy wives Melinda had read about in history, or the expensive cars and houses that rich people had just to show their wealth. The only question was, which kind of trophy was the old medallion that Melinda held in her hand?
He had heard of the term trophy wife before, but never had he ever thought his own sister would take such a position in life. She could do better, a billion times better! She was smart and beautiful, but he knew what her biggest flaw was. The baby girl of the family had been pampered and never had to work a day in her life. It was only natural that she married into money.
The trophy happens to be nothing but a symbol of what could be or more likely what should be. You should be successful, you should be a winner or you should just know what to do with yourself and the fact that goals are simply a means to an end for the government. By reaching these achievements what you really have is a title but no real worth.
She was his trophy wife. But little did he know that he was the one that was the trophy! She grew up poor, wearing secondhand clothes to school, sometimes having to skip meals, and she vowed that some day a rich man would want to marry her.
I won a trophy once. It was big and gold with red ribbon. I won it for throwing a melon further than anyone else good. That was great. I was against a load of 8 year olds but it’s an achievement none the less. It was in november and I hollowed out the melon before I threw it so that’s what happened with that, really. So it sucks to be them because they didn’t get a trophy.
somewhere in middle america a group of long lost survivors emerge out of the wood and find a road. a real road, not just a path trod in dirt. long, long ago when they found their oasis they thought they would never be a need to leave. with all the civil strife at the time it seemed like the only way to escape it all and raise their young was to stay away from everybody else. since their numbers were small it wasn’t hard to feed every mouth. but with the changing weather and the dying animals and polluted rivers there wasn’t any choice other. they fell upon their packs and started down the mountain and out and out and down and out.
My little girl really wnats a trophy, for comething, she doesn’t care what she has do do, for it but she… doens’t want someone to just gie it to her for no reason either. She wants to earn it. and she wants it to be big and shinny too.
It was his company’s last dinner party.
He felt excited and relieved when he heard her reach the bottom of the stairs. For once, she didn’t carry the heavy, dragging sound of flip-flops and slippers. The fact that they were named “flip-flops” and “slippers” and carried such an obnoxious cackle, made him conclude that they were doubly stupid.
No, this time she was escorted by the seldom sound of high heels. It was as intoxicating to him as her spicy Burberry perfume, which he could already smell from the kitchen. The cadence of her walk led him to anticipate pearls- no!- a black, lacy choker, a tightly wound bun of hair, and something, anything red. He sort of prayed for these things. He had become desperate to impressed his VP Jeff. She had become erotic capital.
He glared at the offending object sitting harmlessly on the mantle. It was completely useless, after all. It was pointlessly huge and shiny and it seemed that it’s only point was to irritate him into remembering the one thing he had actually failed at (because honestly, he was amazing and was the best at everything).
I was thinking reward at first. But then I remembered biology. You heterotroph. It’s too bad all the things we can talk to are heterotrophs. It might be refreshing to speak to an autotroph. They’ve probably got a totally different view of life. They would be like hippies, perhaps. And vegetarians. Although they wouldn’t advocate vegetarianism, I would think. Pure carnival-ism, more likely. If they were selfish. And I’m thinking they’re really not. So they selflessly proclaim vegetarianism, and get tossed into salads. And then we put chicken in it.
Maybe I was a trophy wife? Not sure why. I know I am not a trophy wife anymore. Speaking of which, we are don’t have any trophies in our house. Maybe that is a good thing. I hope my children never have or are the trophy spouse.
getting one means that someone acknowledges your efforts. this is a prize and you deserve it, whether you realize it or not. it is a reminder of how good you are. of course, it can be earned ( a medal) ,but it can also be bought (a trophy wife).
An award. Only for the ‘best’ – usually sporting best, unless you’re a trophy wife which is just for looks. I should be given a trophy for this typing – it’s stressful!
Things that show off your past accomplishments. Not really big to some people, but others have them displayed proudly, taking every chance to flaunt them.
I’m with the first group.
However, my medals from science Olympiad is a totally different scenario…
she doesn’t want to be a trophy wife. that’s all she knows at this point. she doesn’t know what she wants to be, what she wants to do with her life, but still, so many girls in her position only come out as trophy wives. and she wants so much more than that, can be so much more than that. she is a person all her own. and no one telling her that she could have the easy-street life is going to change that.
When I got my first trophy, I was a happy child, always showing off to my friends and my family. One day, when my trophy was stolen one night, I cried until I felt like I could cry no more. I decided to take it up with my mother, who might know how to get my trophy back. She said once it was stolen it was never returned, but I showed her. I looked under my bed and found it with my snuggles bear, who had it in his arms the entire time.
Once in a while, a young man wins the ultimate prize in the Kingdom of Salem. This golden trophy encased in a beautiful mural. It stands there looking at the people of the country, letting their hopes go up as the three suns fly over their barren desert.
What does it mean to win? I was taught, or rather, brought up in a non-competitive background. No, my parents are competitive, but somehow even the idea of competition was rooted out from my mind. But, last week I participated in one. Why? I have my excuses. But, I am sitting back now questioning my larger personal politics.
I’ve never won a trophy
The only award I got in High School was for creative writing
I am not a pageant girl
I will never be Ms. America
The shiny gold objects represent things that I do not understand
Bragging rights
Achievements that you need to share with the world
I am not a trophy child
There’s a large trophy sitting in a box in my closet. First place softball tournament trophy. I was young. Young. Those were the days. No worries. No cares. just smiles on the faces of a winning team.
a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup… late nights call for late mornings and cups of yerba mate. a trophy to the test of human energy. he’s restless when the day speaks for itself, he’d rather speak for it.
The world in his hands. The admiration of millions, billions. He smiled. The world sat in awe. He gave fear into the hearts of his followers. He gave love amongst them. He gave them hope, he gave them reasons to live, he gave them the world.
The merit badge was lost to distance memories amongst its kindred nearly as quickly as it was gained. Thomas had little time to gloat or indulge when the fire starter badge loomed on the horizon; it was almost dark and with the moon’s rise came his next conquest.
something you win. you have to work for it., to earn it. they show you have accomplished something. something to show off. I hate how people apply to to women though. like a trophy girl friend or a trophy wife cause you didn’t really accomplish anything to get them. you didn’t win them. it was their own personal choice to marry you.
you win trophies when you do something well or you win something. trophies are a great honor and usually platinum, gold or silver. when your an individual the trophy usually has your name on it engraved at the bottom. whatever sport or activity that you played to earn this trophy is usually what the trophy is; if you are playing volleyball there is a volleyball player on the trophy.
A trophy. That single, shiny, cold and inanimate object that gives you a sense of belonging, of achievement. Of acceptance. The pride of knowing that you are appreciated. And the vanity and selfish nature of wanting others to see your achievement, we pride ourselves in this. We long to be recognised for something, anything. We long for that sense of belonging.
Bright gold.
An accomplishment
with such glee brought on childs face
Glimmering in lost dusty cabins
Soon to be forgotten that once was
such a great odyssey a trek
through amazement.
A trophy
Her fingers glittered with the weight of status. She had become her worst fear, when she married and gave up her own identity in favor of wealth. She was a trophy wife.
it was shiny and metallic and much too heavy. we hoisted it up onto the shelf where we could admire ourselves from afar, but nobody had really thought very far ahead about what we’d do with it in five weeks when the shelf would have to come down. it signified so much, and yet nothing at all. we all stared at it.
Its a medal,Its an award It something that one would die for Its something that means you are a winner. Trophy it can be everything you hoped for or maybe what you had all the time but dint realize! :)
il trofeo è in palio. chi lo vuole se lo prenda. Io penso che avrò tutto il tempo di vincerlo la prossima volta. per ora me ne vado in vacanza e ci resto un mese. con la donna e la moto. cosa vuoi di più !! ciao a tutti :))) e ora che succede???
you are mine.
There are a lot of kinds of trophies, Melinda thought. The obvious kind was the cheap plastic ones that everyone gets after a soccer season. They sit in the attic and gather dust. Then there were mementoes of a time or triumph in life, like the Snickers wrapper from Melinda’s first boyfriend. The day after he gave her the candy he gave her her first kiss. Then there were trophies that equaled status symbols, like the Asian trophy wives Melinda had read about in history, or the expensive cars and houses that rich people had just to show their wealth. The only question was, which kind of trophy was the old medallion that Melinda held in her hand?
He had heard of the term trophy wife before, but never had he ever thought his own sister would take such a position in life. She could do better, a billion times better! She was smart and beautiful, but he knew what her biggest flaw was. The baby girl of the family had been pampered and never had to work a day in her life. It was only natural that she married into money.
The trophy happens to be nothing but a symbol of what could be or more likely what should be. You should be successful, you should be a winner or you should just know what to do with yourself and the fact that goals are simply a means to an end for the government. By reaching these achievements what you really have is a title but no real worth.
She was his trophy wife. But little did he know that he was the one that was the trophy! She grew up poor, wearing secondhand clothes to school, sometimes having to skip meals, and she vowed that some day a rich man would want to marry her.
I wish i have ever won a trophy. My only trophy is the fact that I a worthwhile for anything in this world. I don’t need one to show my worth.
I won a trophy once. It was big and gold with red ribbon. I won it for throwing a melon further than anyone else good. That was great. I was against a load of 8 year olds but it’s an achievement none the less. It was in november and I hollowed out the melon before I threw it so that’s what happened with that, really. So it sucks to be them because they didn’t get a trophy.
somewhere in middle america a group of long lost survivors emerge out of the wood and find a road. a real road, not just a path trod in dirt. long, long ago when they found their oasis they thought they would never be a need to leave. with all the civil strife at the time it seemed like the only way to escape it all and raise their young was to stay away from everybody else. since their numbers were small it wasn’t hard to feed every mouth. but with the changing weather and the dying animals and polluted rivers there wasn’t any choice other. they fell upon their packs and started down the mountain and out and out and down and out.
My little girl really wnats a trophy, for comething, she doesn’t care what she has do do, for it but she… doens’t want someone to just gie it to her for no reason either. She wants to earn it. and she wants it to be big and shinny too.
It was his company’s last dinner party.
He felt excited and relieved when he heard her reach the bottom of the stairs. For once, she didn’t carry the heavy, dragging sound of flip-flops and slippers. The fact that they were named “flip-flops” and “slippers” and carried such an obnoxious cackle, made him conclude that they were doubly stupid.
No, this time she was escorted by the seldom sound of high heels. It was as intoxicating to him as her spicy Burberry perfume, which he could already smell from the kitchen. The cadence of her walk led him to anticipate pearls- no!- a black, lacy choker, a tightly wound bun of hair, and something, anything red. He sort of prayed for these things. He had become desperate to impressed his VP Jeff. She had become erotic capital.
He glared at the offending object sitting harmlessly on the mantle. It was completely useless, after all. It was pointlessly huge and shiny and it seemed that it’s only point was to irritate him into remembering the one thing he had actually failed at (because honestly, he was amazing and was the best at everything).
I was thinking reward at first. But then I remembered biology. You heterotroph. It’s too bad all the things we can talk to are heterotrophs. It might be refreshing to speak to an autotroph. They’ve probably got a totally different view of life. They would be like hippies, perhaps. And vegetarians. Although they wouldn’t advocate vegetarianism, I would think. Pure carnival-ism, more likely. If they were selfish. And I’m thinking they’re really not. So they selflessly proclaim vegetarianism, and get tossed into salads. And then we put chicken in it.
Maybe I was a trophy wife? Not sure why. I know I am not a trophy wife anymore. Speaking of which, we are don’t have any trophies in our house. Maybe that is a good thing. I hope my children never have or are the trophy spouse.
Oh my! Oh dear!
What have we here?
A trophy of belvedere, I fear.
But what could a deer
do with a trophy so queer?
getting one means that someone acknowledges your efforts. this is a prize and you deserve it, whether you realize it or not. it is a reminder of how good you are. of course, it can be earned ( a medal) ,but it can also be bought (a trophy wife).
An award. Only for the ‘best’ – usually sporting best, unless you’re a trophy wife which is just for looks. I should be given a trophy for this typing – it’s stressful!
Things that show off your past accomplishments. Not really big to some people, but others have them displayed proudly, taking every chance to flaunt them.
I’m with the first group.
However, my medals from science Olympiad is a totally different scenario…
she doesn’t want to be a trophy wife. that’s all she knows at this point. she doesn’t know what she wants to be, what she wants to do with her life, but still, so many girls in her position only come out as trophy wives. and she wants so much more than that, can be so much more than that. she is a person all her own. and no one telling her that she could have the easy-street life is going to change that.
When I got my first trophy, I was a happy child, always showing off to my friends and my family. One day, when my trophy was stolen one night, I cried until I felt like I could cry no more. I decided to take it up with my mother, who might know how to get my trophy back. She said once it was stolen it was never returned, but I showed her. I looked under my bed and found it with my snuggles bear, who had it in his arms the entire time.
A “trophy wife” is considered a relic of the past: a phenomenon that only happened in less enlightened times.
Do we now have “trophy husbands”? If so, is that a sign of gender equality?
Gleaming. Bright. Evidence of my strength, my prowess, my cunning. Victory was mine, IS mine–Forever.
Once in a while, a young man wins the ultimate prize in the Kingdom of Salem. This golden trophy encased in a beautiful mural. It stands there looking at the people of the country, letting their hopes go up as the three suns fly over their barren desert.
What does it mean to win? I was taught, or rather, brought up in a non-competitive background. No, my parents are competitive, but somehow even the idea of competition was rooted out from my mind. But, last week I participated in one. Why? I have my excuses. But, I am sitting back now questioning my larger personal politics.
I’ve never won a trophy
The only award I got in High School was for creative writing
I am not a pageant girl
I will never be Ms. America
The shiny gold objects represent things that I do not understand
Bragging rights
Achievements that you need to share with the world
I am not a trophy child
There’s a large trophy sitting in a box in my closet. First place softball tournament trophy. I was young. Young. Those were the days. No worries. No cares. just smiles on the faces of a winning team.
a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup, a cup… late nights call for late mornings and cups of yerba mate. a trophy to the test of human energy. he’s restless when the day speaks for itself, he’d rather speak for it.
Sawa held the trophy high over her head as cascades of golden confetti rained down upon her team. What an absolute triumph.
The world in his hands. The admiration of millions, billions. He smiled. The world sat in awe. He gave fear into the hearts of his followers. He gave love amongst them. He gave them hope, he gave them reasons to live, he gave them the world.
The merit badge was lost to distance memories amongst its kindred nearly as quickly as it was gained. Thomas had little time to gloat or indulge when the fire starter badge loomed on the horizon; it was almost dark and with the moon’s rise came his next conquest.
You are blinded by the glint of the prize, the trophy you’re fighting for. It’s not so bright in your bedroom cupboard.
something you win. you have to work for it., to earn it. they show you have accomplished something. something to show off. I hate how people apply to to women though. like a trophy girl friend or a trophy wife cause you didn’t really accomplish anything to get them. you didn’t win them. it was their own personal choice to marry you.
We all have our treasures, we all have our favorite possessions. Does it fill your life? Does it make you happy? Truly happy?
you win trophies when you do something well or you win something. trophies are a great honor and usually platinum, gold or silver. when your an individual the trophy usually has your name on it engraved at the bottom. whatever sport or activity that you played to earn this trophy is usually what the trophy is; if you are playing volleyball there is a volleyball player on the trophy.
A trophy. That single, shiny, cold and inanimate object that gives you a sense of belonging, of achievement. Of acceptance. The pride of knowing that you are appreciated. And the vanity and selfish nature of wanting others to see your achievement, we pride ourselves in this. We long to be recognised for something, anything. We long for that sense of belonging.
Bright gold.
An accomplishment
with such glee brought on childs face
Glimmering in lost dusty cabins
Soon to be forgotten that once was
such a great odyssey a trek
through amazement.
A trophy
Her fingers glittered with the weight of status. She had become her worst fear, when she married and gave up her own identity in favor of wealth. She was a trophy wife.
it was shiny and metallic and much too heavy. we hoisted it up onto the shelf where we could admire ourselves from afar, but nobody had really thought very far ahead about what we’d do with it in five weeks when the shelf would have to come down. it signified so much, and yet nothing at all. we all stared at it.
the trophy was placed in the school shelves for display
some trophies are beautifully made and others are junk
if we think about, we are all winners and deserve a measure of respect and not the trophy of glitz
Its a medal,Its an award It something that one would die for Its something that means you are a winner. Trophy it can be everything you hoped for or maybe what you had all the time but dint realize! :)
il trofeo è in palio. chi lo vuole se lo prenda. Io penso che avrò tutto il tempo di vincerlo la prossima volta. per ora me ne vado in vacanza e ci resto un mese. con la donna e la moto. cosa vuoi di più !! ciao a tutti :))) e ora che succede???