Shannon, my teenaged daughter, has been afflicted with “Bieber Fever.” As a consequence, I have been subjected to his movie, “Justin Bieber: Never Say Never,” seen the famous hair flip more times than I can count and heard the backstory on every one of his songs. Even my laptop’s wallpaper has been set to Mr. Bieber’s image.
Frankly, I am surprised it has taken this long for her to catch “Bieber Fever.” Justin Bieber has been an internet sensation for a whole year already and Shannon is just getting on the bandwagon. I get to hear how envious she is of his girlfriend, Disney’s Selena Gomez, and how she would just die if he picked her from the audience and sang “One Less Lonely Girl” to her. All in all, I am quite pleased with this obsession.
I remember when I had my mad crush on the teen idol of the time, Donny Osmond. (Granted, I was a few years younger than Shannon, but I was equally as crazy about him as she is her crush). I owned “Deep Purple,” “Puppy Love,” and various other hits on 45 records and I played them incessently. I watched “The Donny and Marie Show” religiously on Friday nights; I even had the Mattel version of the Donny Osmond doll–in all his pink and purple glory.
I was broken hearted when he got married. I was 12.
While Bieber is not as squeaky clean as Osmond, he is not someone I am opposed to my daughter fawning over. He’s around her age; he seems quite driven and talented; and, most importantly, he’s not Marilyn Manson. Bieber has my blessing.
I’m so content with her choice that when she changed my laptop wallpaper to a photo of the hair flip king, I didn’t change it back.
“Mom, he’s so sexy in that picture,” Shannon purred.
“He’s cute, Shannon; not sexy,” I replied. “He’s a child.”
“Come on, Mom; he’s 17!” she shot back. “You know he’s sexy.”