Beat It

An issue of Seventeen arrived for my daughter recently, wrapped in plastic with an "URGENT WARNING" renewal notice. Apparently, her subscription was drawing to its end and if we didn't "RENEW IMMEDIATELY," she might miss something. 

Uh-oh.

My daughter is no longer seventeen. In fact, I left her half a birthday card yesterday to celebrate her turning eighteen-and-a-half. A very cute gesture, if I do say so myself. I was on a business trip, so I was spared her reaction, whatever that might have been.

But, I digress.

Seventeen actually seems to appeal more to younger teens and tweens than its eponymous target audience. So, for the first time in four years or so, I'm not going to write a check for another issue filled with "Best Prom Looks," "Dating Disasters" or even the oh-so-popular (unless, you're a parent, then it's oh-so-horrifying) "Be His Best Hook-Up Ever." Then, of course, there are the stories on celebrity crush heartthrobs of the moment, like "Zayne Malick Just Got a New Tattoo," "Is Brooklyn Beckham About to Launch a Rap Career?" and "A Shirtless Justin Bieber Shows Off His Newest Accessory." (Can I assume it's not a shirt?)

Audible sigh. Not.

Seventeen certainly isn't what it was when I was growing up. But, it nevertheless takes me back — if I don't look too closely — to my youth (Frye boots, Gunny Sack skirts, Dorothy Hamill haircut and Sweet & Sassy shampoo). And, of course, I remember some of the other magazines we all read back then.

Like Tiger Beat. 

You see, we had heartthrobs too. Did we ever!

Here's a list of the hotties we crushed on (although we wouldn't have used those exact words) back in the 1970s, along with the hard-boiled journalistic headlines that appeared with their cover photos.

"GIANT DAVID CASSIDY WALL-SIZE-LOVING COLOR POSTER FILL YOUR ROOM! BIGGEST SIZE EVER!"

"GETTING HOOKED ON ROBBY BENSON — IT'S EASY & TERRIFIC!"

"BAY CITY ROLLERS: REALLY READY FOR ROMANCE!"

"MONKEE SECRET HIDEOUTS! DAVY JONES TALKS: HIS PAST LOVES"

"SCOTT BAIO: MAKE HIM NOTICE, LIKE & LOVE YOU!"

"THE REAL DONNY OSMOND: SWEET OR SEXY?"

"SHAUN CASSIDY ON TOUR: WHEN AND WHERE"

"WHY BARRY WILLIAMS HATES FANS"

"JOHN "BARBARINO" TRAVOLTA WANTS YOUR PHONE NUMBER (WILL YOU GIVE IT TO HIM?)"

"THE REAL PARKER STEVENSON: DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU READ!"

"BOBBY SHERMAN QUITS! LET'S CHANGE HIS MIND!"

and ...

"JACKSON 5 GROOVY LIFE LINES!" (What does that even mean?)
 
Those were the days, my friends.

A quick Google search confirms that Tiger Beat still exists! And, for a mere $19 (in the U.S.; it's more in Canada, sorry) I can receive eight glorious issues a year. I'm tempted ...

But, somehow, it just wouldn't be the same.

If you've enjoyed this post, I invite you to order the book Lovin' the Alien here.    

Sex Ed And Ostriches

I've been writing a lot about my teenage daughter's upcoming prom — about dresses and dates, permission slips and soon, promposals (it's coming, I promise). What I haven't talked about yet is ... 

S-E-X. 

According to a fairly recent survey by Seventeen magazine, 14% of girls will have sex on prom night. 5% of girls (and 3% of boys) will lose their virginity. That may not sound like a lot, until you do the math. There are more than 6 million juniors and seniors in more than 19,000 public high schools in the USA. So, not including private schools, we're talking about 240,000 first-timers.

Maybe the schools should spend a little less on breathalyzers and a little more on condoms.

Maybe the schools should also take a look at their current sex ed curriculum.

I was a PTO officer for four years, two in lower middle school and two in upper middle school (by the time we graduated to high school, I was completely burned out). I once had a major maternal hissy fit at a program called "Don't Panic, It's Just Puberty." What got my knickers in a knot was learning that they taught some semblance of reproduction in junior high, but that they didn't teach sexuality in high school. At all.

"So, waitaminute," I remember saying. "So, we explain the birds and the bees to kids who still think the opposite sex is gross, but we don't address any of it once the kids are actually in relationships?"

The rather exasperated Health Ed Curriculum Director confirmed that my assumption was correct. She then invited me to take on the district administration. I respectfully declined.

In my high school, growing up in the still fairly groovy and free loving 1970s, we learned about sex, about birth control, about STDs. Thanks to the efforts of an exceptionally liberal classmate, we actually had the owner of notorious sex club Plato's Retreat as a speaker. (It was indicative of the nerdliness of my fellow students that we were more interested in his business plan than anything going down in the "mattress room.")

Today's high school administrators prefer to take an ostrich approach: hide their head in the sand and it will all go away.

SparkLife is a colorful blog that's run by SparkNotes (the digital world's answer to those yellow and black CliffNotes we all remember — but never used, surely). They did a survey about high school sex ed, the results of which they summarized as "Extremely Brief and Incredibly Awkward."

31% of students described it as "Abstinence based chit chat that also gives you some information on protection."

25% "An explanation of the role of consent, choice, protection, consequences, and resources so thorough I could pass my O.W.L.S. in Sex Ed for sure." (That's a Harry Potter allusion; Ordinary Wizarding Level.)

18% "Abstinence-only education." (And we all know how well that works.)

17% "A very awkward encounter with a prop box and some info on how to use protection."

5% "A game of rock, paper, scissors that made no sense and contained no reference to the human body."

5% "I'm home-schooled."

The answer options, of course, are meant to be funny. But, the point is this: only one quarter of students are getting what they recognize as comprehensive sex education. School systems (like ours) insist that its the parents' job to provide all that uncomfortable information. But, only 16% of students participating in the survey thought their moms and dads taught them everything they needed to know.

So where do the rest of today's high school students get their information? 

"The Internet, duh."

I feel better now, don't you?   

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

Seventeen, Again

Tween hygiene is a strange and changeable thing. They may fight the idea of showering, but then once they're in the stall, you can't get them out again. Time stands still and North America's water levels drop precipitously. The same is true for other grooming rituals. Hair is brushed one thousand strokes but teeth are forgotten. Or an inordinate amount of time is spent covering nearly invisible blemishes while tangles are left uncombed.

We had already returned from our fourth and final trip to Vermont when I realized my daughter hadn't bathed all weekend. "Honey," I told her, "Go shower."

"I wanna wait until after dinner," she replied, eyes never leaving her iPhone with its half-dozen concurrent text conversations.

"But, your hair looks dirty," I insist.

She shrugged. "Do we have any baking soda?"

Say, what?

"Baking soda? You can comb it through your hair when you're in a hurry, and it makes it look clean. It's in Seventeen."

Ah. The gospel according to Seventeen. I remember it well.

I think it was the summer after seventh grade that I started devouring that magazine. It influenced everything: my haircut (Dorothy Hamill wedge, and if that doesn't date me nothing will), my shampoos ("Short & Sassy," "Herbal Essence" and "Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific"), my sandals (Famolare with their distinctive wave sole), my sundresses (Gunny Sack), my boots (Frye), my lip balm (Bonne Bell Dr. Pepper).

Now that I think about it, clearly the ads were more influential than the articles.

But, I did read each issue cover to cover. Stories talked about friendships, pop music, activities like sewing projects, teens in other countries. And, how to let a boy know you liked him. I filed these away for future use — my junior high had just gone co-ed after a century as an all-girls school. Actual boys were few and far between.

Compare these with some of the content in a random sampling of my daughter's issues. Oh sure, there are still plenty of fashion spreads and beauty tips. But the editorial has — shall we say — "evolved."

"I Faked my Pregnancy"

"Your 2012 Hot-Body Plan"

"Mind-Blowing Makeouts: How to be a Better Kisser"

And, an entire issue devoted to the annual: "Hot Guy Special!" which promises to teach you how to "Have Him Ask You Out!" and "Flirt The Right Way!" and "Be His Best Hookup!"

Okay, I am old and I am definitely not as cool as I once was. But, the last time I checked, a "hookup" (as in "Be His Best ...") is what we used to call a "one-night stand." Except I didn't call it that when I was reading Seventeen, because I didn't know that there was such a thing. I certainly wasn't ready to be anyone's hookup, let alone their best one.

And neither is my daughter. But, since she didn't feel the need to bring me the magazine and question its content, I have to assume she knows all of this and more. Now, my head hurts.

Seventeen magazine's media kit claims that the median age of its readers is 16.5 years old. But, nearly 2 million readers are between 12 and 15. (In my experience, girls drop it many months before they hit the magazine's eponymous age.) I don't think these girls should be getting tips on hooking up quite yet? Do you? And, if your response is "Just don't let your tween daughter read it," you, my friend, clearly don't have a tween daughter.

My mind is made up. With all the envelope-pushing going on, I think I need to read my daughter's Seventeen magazines when they get here every month before I let her have them. It's clearly the only responsible thing to do. I'll just have to suffer through the pretty pictures, latest gossip and beauty features myself. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it.

Now, if I can just get my hands on a can of Tab ...