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Dear Mom: 18 Things I Wish You Understood About Posting On Facebook

Dear Mom,

I love you — I really do, but I need to defriend you. It’s nothing personal; I still want to be your friend and your daughter, but I don’t want to be anyone you know on social media. Why? I don’t mean to be harsh, but, you’re out of control.

I love you, but I hate your Facebook posts. I care about you, but I want to delete all your ridiculous and unnecessary statuses. I adore you, but I want to throw all your comments in your badly cropped cover photo’s face.

You can be friends with me in real life, but you don’t need to talk to me on Facebook. Contrary to what you believe, it’s way more awkward for me to talk to you on Facebook.

I know you’re trying to stay relevant, to keep up with the quickly changing times, and I respect that, I really do. But some things are just too far gone.

Like Kim Kardashian and Grindr, you’re just never going to get it. You can have LinkedIn and Hotmail, but for my sanity, let go of Facebook.

The caps lock doesn’t need to be on.

Do you know what caps locks means? It means you’re screaming. You do enough of that at home — why here?


Your compliments make everyone feel weird.

Telling all my friends they look beautiful while shotgunning a beer is just uncomfortable. Posting we all have such “amazing bodies” on the picture from Punta Cana makes us, and everyone looking at the photo, feel weird.


Your presence has made my friends cautious about posting on my wall.

Thanks to you, my friends now feel weird posting anything on my wall having to do with drugs, sex or Obama (we’ll get to your political statuses later).


I’m not dating the guy in the pictures, so stop saying we look cute together.

Mom, this isn’t my boyfriend. He’s not even my friend. He’s a guy I met in the bar. You’re making me look crazy before I even have the chance to.


The status bar is not Google.

The entirety of Facebook doesn’t need to know your questions about bladder control. Your “friends” don’t care that you’re curious about wealth distribution in America. Please, control yourself.


If you think something is inappropriate, message me about it, don’t comment.

It’s really embarrassing when you decide to tell me that “smoking is bad” in front of my 1,200 friends. Please, for the love of God, just message me! You know that’s an option, right?


Saying I look beautiful in every picture doesn’t make me feel good, it makes me feel like an assh*le.

Mom, stop. I don’t even look good here. I’m covered in beer and high-fiving the Fat Jew; “beautiful” is not the right comment for this.


No one wants the old car you’re selling, the real estate you’re promoting or the giveaway bag of soaps.

I know you’re confused, but this isn’t Craigslist. That’s a different website. So please stop trying to sell things on Facebook. I don’t need everyone to know about the “mattress with slight period stain on right corner.”


Just because people liked it doesn’t mean they love it.

It’s just a courtesy — we like everything. You don’t need to message them individually, post a comment saying how sweet they are or ask how their moms are doing.


It’s not cool to say, “Oh, I saw your Facebook the other day” when we run into someone at the mall.

Saying you saw people on Facebook is about as creepy as saying you stalked them outside their house for two hours.


TBTing a picture when I’m 13 isn’t Cool Girl.

Of all the years you’re going to TBT, you’re going to do those? Do you really think those braces really look good enough to make your cover photo? Do you really think the family vacation to Bora Bora with my tankini and mole is the best we’ve ever looked?


You can’t take a selfie over the age of 36.

Unless you look like J.Lo, don’t do it.


Don’t friend the guys/girls I tell you about.

You just ruined everything.


Stop posting about menopause and get a journal.

Facebook is not fair game. Only crazy people post statuses no one gives a sh*t about. Do what your generation did so well and write it in a book.


It’s weird when you try and get political.

No one cares about my political views, let alone some 50-something woman who calls weed “marijuana.”


Stop posting The Onion thinking it’s real.

For the love of God! It’s fake! Bin Laden was never engaged to Katy Perry! Think about it!


Stop sending money to the Nigerian Prince!

Haven’t you learned?


Learn how to spell

If it looks like you grew up illiterate or as some distant European relative with a limited grasp of the English Language, you just shouldn’t be on here.

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Lauren Martin

Freelance Contributor

Lauren Martin is a Senior Lifestyle Writer at Elite Daily. After graduating from PSU, she moved to NYC to write fart jokes at Smosh Magazine. Making her way to ED, she now writes riveting commentary on nude pics, condoms and first dates.
Lauren Martin is a Senior Lifestyle Writer at Elite Daily. After graduating from PSU, she moved to NYC to write fart jokes at Smosh Magazine. Making her way to ED, she now writes riveting commentary on nude pics, condoms and first dates.

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