Listen, Generation Y-Doesn't-Everyone-Always-Look-at-Me: I'm glad you like yourself so much! Really. It takes a lot of self-confidence, verging on crippling egotism, to snap selfies every other nanosecond—here's me getting ready! here's me on my eighth drink! here's me puking into a Cheetos bag!—and immediately post 'em to Facebook, Instagram, Twitter—wherever your peeps are. And by "peeps" I mean overly validating near-strangers, including that "sensual magician" from Albania whose friend request you accepted, because, well, one more follower! Woo hoo!

Next thing you know, you have 35 new "likes!" It's basically an insulin shot straight to the ego.
But there's a problem: your face. I'm referring to the one you've been wearing in all those self-pics. You're overposed, to put it kindly.
To put it unkindly: You look silly. Very, very silly.

It's called Internet Face—or at least that's what I'm calling it right now in this essay—and there are a few variations. Most men go for a vaguely threatening expression along the lines of Bobby De Niro in GoodFellas—a look that says, "What? You wanna take a picture of me? FUCK YOU." It's all raised eyebrows and feigned hostile surprise, as if their hands—the ones holding iPhones a foot away from their faces—aren't their own.

And some guys, particularly those who smell like a Hawaiian Tropic restaurant, like to show more of their waxed chests than an arm's length allows, so they'll use a mirror. A mirror! Which means we can actually see their hand holding up their phone. And still, a visage of pure contempt.

Not that ladies don't have their own horrible self-pic habit. It's earned its own name at this point: duckface. Cheeks are sucked in hard, and the lips are dialed up to full pout like a duck prostrate before a kid with breadcrumbs. You've seen it on Facebook. (Or worse, done it on Facebook—weirdly enough, the occasional dude borrows the pose.) It's a hyperbolic "kissy" face that gives a girl the appearance of vegetable-chopping cheekbones and a ScarJo mouth. At least, that's the hope. In reality, duckfacers look more like collagen-blooded Real Housewives. Or someone who's just been smacked in the face by a jellyfish.

So please trust me, men, when I tell you that your Internet Face—which has assaulted my eyes everywhere from Instagram to OkCupid—is the lady equivalent of a boner killer. All that trying so hard to look like you're not trying so hard? It is not working.

Clearly we aren't meant to be the picture taker and the picture subject at the same time. Maybe Internet Face is just a mask to protect us from the shame of such a narcissistic act. So we don't have to see our "real" face in the lens and think, "Seriously, I'm doing this right now?" The easy solution here would be to quit taking your own picture.

Then we would revert to a time when there was a natural system of checks and balances in place—namely, when there was another person in the room holding the camera, protecting us from our worst instincts.

But—sigh—I realize asking this generation to stop snapping selfies is like asking Mitt Romney to let his hair air-dry. It's not gonna happen. So let's compromise: Could you just try, you know, smiling?