SELFIE ESTEEM STUDY RESULTS

by Dr. Ernst Renault, Ph.D

“A well-stocked collection of selfies seems to get attention. And attention is the name of the game…the power to attract viewers…is power indeed. Attention is power.”

          James Franco/The New York Times

The actor James Franco managed to get himself a great deal of publicity with his column musing on the power of selfies – a column and argument augmented by the inclusion of a number of his own selfies. As a scientist, I think his column was pretty damned compelling evidence that his theory is correct. I mean, why else would anyone care what James Franco has to say on any subject if not for the power imbued in him by his self-admitted addiction to selfies? Why else would he have been billed over Ray Liotta in The Iceman for what was essentially a by-the-numbers cameo, when Mr. Liotta had a bigger part that was more essential to the story?

Obviously, the power of Mr. Franco’s selfies are giving his career a boost it otherwise would likely not have.

After reading Mr. Franco’s piece, I was reminded of Geraldo Rivera’s famous topless (and almost more) selfie from earlier this year, and his boast that “70 is the new 50.” Now, I wouldn’t go that far, but, from the evidence Mr. Rivera presented, it does seem safe to say that, in his case at least, 70 is the new 60ish. Again a claim of power, of vitality. Again, the link to selfies.

 

 

My scientific curiosity was aroused. My mind burned to know more.

And so, with a few of my colleagues, I designed an experiment to test the selfie equals power hypothesis. Rather obviously, I am not an actor or a journalist, so it was decided that it would be unwise to try and measure any growth in power in those fields during the course of the experiment. Instead, it was decided to measure simple raw physical strength, or power, if you will, instead.

The first step in this was to establish a baseline. Using myself – who else? – as the subject of the experiment, my progress was charted as described below.

DAY 1: Gym membership and strength (power) baseline established. Able to do six repetitions (each arm) with a 20 lb. barbell.

DAY 2: Able to do four (left arm) and five (right arm) repetitions with 20 lb. barbell. Both arms still sore from previous day’s exertion.

DAY 3: Instagram account (for experiment) established. No photos taken or sent. Able to do seven 20 lb. repetitions with each arm.

DAY 4: Took a half-dozen selfies throughout the morning. Instagram account engaged. At gym, was able to do ten 20 lb. repetitions with ease.

DAY 5: Took two-dozen selfies throughout the morning. During gym visit, was able to do a dozen 35 lb. repetitions with ease – and ran three miles on the treadmill without breaking a sweat.

DAY 6: No gym today, but did take some dozens of selfies throughout the day. In the late afternoon, at the grocery store, a number of attractive women gave me what seemed to be admiring glances. (Admittedly, these particular results are difficult to quantify.)

DAY 7: Took first selfie before getting out of bed in the morning. Dozens more taken before hitting the gym at lunch. Two gym regulars (male) greeted me with, “Yo, dude.” Did forty-two repetitions with 50 lb. barbells, and five miles on the treadmill. Also two-hundred sit-ups.

DAY 8: Took targeted number of one-hundred selfies before hitting the gym. Instagram numbers over five-hundred mark. Ripped out seventy reps with 50 lb. barbells with no sweat. Chicks on treadmills clearly took notice. Oh yeah, two-hundred more sit-ups, too.

DAY 9: In the morning, woke up from dream in which I’d been taking selfies with a camera as big as a coffee table, before being attacked by a giant piece of French Toast, to find that I’d ripped my mattress in half in my sleep. Snapped a shitload of selfies. Hit the gym. Cranked out one-hundred reps with 60 lb. barbells, did eight miles on the treadmill, two-hundred sit-ups, and made a date with Cecilia, the cute chick who’s always on the treadmills at lunchtime.

DAY 10: Breakfast of selfies before hitting the mall to buy new clothes to replace all the shirts and pants I’ve blown out in the past few days. Totally lovin’ the lycra. Tons of selfies while shopping. At the gym, did ten miles on the treadmill (Hi, Cecilia!) while carrying two 75 lb. barbells. Three hundred sit-ups. Ran home, then ran back to the gym to get my car.

DAY 11: Selfies, including several of me holding up copies of other selfies. Decided to run to gym again. Took selfies on the way, which distracted me from traffic. Got hit by minivan, which got totally wrecked. Walked away without a scratch. Gym, hi-fives from my bros there, dinner with Cecilia, selfies with Cecilia.

DAY 12: Good morning for selfies, but ran into problems at gym. Loser there made cracks about me while I was doing twelve miles on the treadmill with two 100 lb. barbells strapped on my back, taking selfies. Finally, put camera down, ripped barbells off back, and threatened to smash loser with them. Gym manager, Todd, asked me to leave and “cool down.” Got home, took selfie, and see me totally ripped out new workout t-shirt. Totally.

DAY 13: Took selfies. Buy new shirt. Go to gym. Same loser! Want to smash him again. Todd call police. Police! Make things worse! First pair of handcuffs not hold me. Police have to use three pairs! At police station, want to take selfie for mugshot, but police say no. Stupid police! Me smash! You think puny cell will hold me?!?

DAY 14: Experiment cancelled. Dr. Renault missing. Results conclusive, but troubling.