The Snooki Factor

My 18-year-old niece posted pictures of her, and her girlfriends, at their prom on Facebook this morning.

Now, I know I’m supposed to be the spinster here but they all looked over 40.

Their beautiful youth was crushed under the influence of minor celebrity, too much spray-tan and a blatant desire to be fucked by any guy who shows an interest (because that’s cool, right?).

Hidden under a ton of make-up, crazy big hair, pouty mouths and hands on hips, these girls oozed the opposite of confidence and vitality.

It looked like the line-up of an episode of the “Real Housewives of Somewhere Just Outside London”.

My god, I’m glad I’m not 18 anymore. There’s way too much maintaining, accessories, peer pressure and hard work involved.

But girls, hear this: Snooki isn’t a role model. She’s a cartoon.

You can do so much better than try to emulate the slutty, generic, boring, ignorant women who rule cable TV.

When I was 18, I was a cub reporter doing a real job. Looking good was part of the job. But I never felt like I had to be a puffed-up show pony. I didn’t have to try so hard to be attractive. In fact, I didn’t have to try at all.

Funnily enough, guys love intelligent, young, women.

All the other crap takes away from who you are.

Who you will be is still yet to be determined. So enjoy the journey. Don’t erase it under a ton of Mac foundation and false eyelashes.

Instead of high-jumping over your teenage years, enjoy them.

You’ll be 40 soon enough, believe me.


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