Selfies Are A Lousy Way To Take A Picture

I've been a mother for sixteen and a half years and we have never had lice. 

Quick, give me something made of wood so I can knock on it!

I'm not one of those snobby people who thinks lice could never ("neveh, neveh, neveh") happen in my emaculate home. This is the real world. Sh*t happens; so does lice. And, believe you me, we've had close calls. A voicemail from daycare, a notice sent home in an elementary school backpack, a veritable epidemic at gymnastics camp. I've bought the skinny-toothed nit combs; I've examined the scalp. (I've even experienced the psychosomatic itching.) But, to date, thank-you God, we have not had a single louse in the house. 

Amen, sister. 

What we have had our share of are "selfies," the ubiquitous self-portraits that today's teenagers take (and take and take). These get posted on Facebook; they are Instagrammed and Tweeted and Tumbled and who know what else. "Here I am in my room." "Here I am with a bowl of Doritos." "Here I am with my new haircut." "Here I am trying on Sophomore Semi-Formal dresses." "Here I am." "Here I am. "Here I am."

Old-timers like us don't know from "selfies." I'm not sure whether it's because shooting a self-portrait with an old-fashioned camera (remember film?) would be awkward, or because we had nowhere to show them off. My husband (a high-tech professional, but an analog guy at heart) once told me that he was about to take a "facey" because there was so much snow out front. I, being slightly, but only slightly, more fluent in mobile lingo, knew what a "selfie" was, but not what a "facey" was. I thought he was about to fall on his face.

For those of you who weren't born after 1990, basically the "selfie" drill is this: you pose, you point, you post, you wait for all your friends to hit "Like" or make insightful and original comments like "U so pretty."

My daughter isn't vain about her looks. (In fact, if anything, I think she underestimates how pretty she might be to the opposite sex, which makes my husband very happy.) But, she certainly puts up her share of "selfies." I know this because whenever I help backup her iPhone, I get to see all her photos. I try not to make a big deal out of it. So far, they've all been nice, smiling, fully-clothed.

That's the issue, isn't it? Between Justin Bieber, Amanda Bynes and Anthony Weiner (really, could the man have a more unfortunate name?), it's painfully obvious that "selfies" can get you into quite a lot of trouble. People, please. Put your junk away. No one really wants to see that.

And now there's something new to worry about. According to several stories in today's news, taking "selfies" is contributing to the growing cases of lice among teenagers.

Altogether now ... "Ewwwwwwww!"

Yes, the popular plural version of the "selfie" (a bunch of besties crowding together for a group self-portrait) seems to be the culprit. According to Marcy McQuillan of Scotts Valley's Nitless Noggins (a place I will never work), “I’ve seen a huge increase of lice in teens this year. Typically it’s younger children I treat, because they’re at higher risk for head-to-head contact. But now, teens are sticking their heads together every day to take cell phone pics." She goes on to warn that "Parents need to be aware, and teenagers need to be aware too. Selfies are fun, but the consequences are real."

On behalf of mothers of teens everywhere, thank you, Ms. McQuillan. Just what we needed, right? 

One more lousy thing to worry about.

If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.   

Tweenage Wasteland — Then and Now

Here's how it always starts.

"When I was your age ... blah blah blah." (Insert idealized memory that makes each of us sound like a character from some Laura Ingalls Wilder novel.) "Milk was a nickel." "We didn't have computers or cell phones or paper clips or diet soda." "I walked six miles to school in the snow, uphill, both ways."

Every generation romances its own past and despairs for the future.

And, with today's tweens and teens growing up in the digital age, there really are some great differences. I mean "great" as in unusually or comparatively large in size or dimensions, not necessarily as in wonderful, first-rate, very good. (Whatever did we do before dictionary.com? Oh, right, we used a big fat book!) Media has radically changed and, consequently, tween and teen media consumption has as well.

At a glance, it seems as though everything is different. We've jumped from Leave it to Beaver to The Jetsons. But are 14 year old girls in 2011 really so different from their ancient ancestors of ... say ... 1976?

Sometimes I wonder.

Here are some typical tween traits one might have observed then and now:

Blind Brand Loyalty

The very very first words of one of my very very favorite Elton John songs: "Blue jean baby, L.A. lady ..." Blue jeans were and are important. The right ones mean you get it. The wrong ones? Well, you might as well find a seat at the lunchtime loser table. (And sit down fast so no one can see the stitching on your backside pockets, the tell-tale sign that your mother found those disgraceful denims at some discount store rather than Abercrombie or Hollister.) As a harried working mother in the middle of middle age, I want to say "Jeans are jeans!" But, as a one-time tween, I know better. Back then, nothing came between me and my Calvins.

Fancy Footwear

The shoes to choose these days are suddenly Converse All-Stars. Not to be confused with Converse One Stars. As my tween daughter logically put it, "Why would you want only one star?" Your average tweenage girl needs several pairs — paint-splattered, plaid, two-toned. To my unknowing eyes, they look like any other canvas athletic shoes and they cost more. But, I remember needing (not wanting, mind you, but needing) Adidas sneakers in the 70s. Trust me, they weren't giving those little stripes away.

Long-Haired Teen Idols

Welcome to the generation gap. I do not have Bieber Fever. Let's face it; it would be kind of disturbing if I did. He's 32 years my junior and the idea of his baby baby-face, singing "Baby, baby, baby, oh like baby, baby, baby, no like baby, baby, baby, oh, I thought you'd always be mine," is more than slightly ridiculous. He does have good hair though. In fact, it reminds me of someone from way back when ... hmmmmm. And they called it puppy love?

Parental Under-appreciation

Remember when you first had a baby and you swore you would never say those things? You know the ones I mean, "Because I said so." "If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?" Well, in the last several months, I have become my own worst cliché. "Look at all the things I do for you," I whine. "You don't appreciate me." For the record, my daughter does not appreciate me. However, my daughter does appreciate me as much as any other fourteen year old girls appreciate their mothers. And, I'm sorry to admit it, but my daughter appreciates me as much as I appreciated my own mother. (Sorry, Mom.)

A Flair for the Dramatic

Tween tragedies are nothing new. Remember, Juliet herself was "not yet fourteen." These girls are starring in a Technicolor (or maybe in 2011 I'd better say, a high-definition) movie of their own life. Like any sweeping saga, it has funny moments, romance, twists of fate and grand passions. Best friends come and go. Feelings are hurt. The highs are high, the lows are low. When my husband shakes his head in helpless wonder, I reassure him that our daughter, like Gloria Gaynor back in my generation, will survive.

Music or Noise?

Was there any haven on Earth more precious and personal than your bedroom when you had your stereo on? Music marks the personal journey from child to adult. The soundtrack of my own tweens and teens was fairly eclectic. It included Fleetwood Mac, The Who, Carly Simon, Elton, The Eagles, as well as decidedly uncool but absolutely top of their particular games: John Denver and Barry Manilow. Eventually I moved into new wave with Blondie, Elvis Costello and the B-52s. Whenever I am tempted to diss my daughter's discs, I have to remind myself that I consumed an awful lot of "noise" in my day.

I guess the purpose of this little trip down memory lane (and, I didn't even mention my Dorothy Hamill haircut — oops, I just did — actually, now that I think about it, it looked a lot like Justin Bieber's) is to suggest that tweens today are not so very different from the tweens of yesteryear. We may not agree with their fads but we owe it them to admit that we had our own.

The more tweens change, the more they stay the same.