Frost attends the Heritage Christian School in Findlay, Ohio, a Baptist school with strict rules regarding dancing, rock music, alcohol, and sex. The school's handbook even claims that rock music is "is part of the counterculture which seeks to implant seeds of rebellion in young people's hearts and minds." Unfortunately for Frost, Kevin Bacon isn't going to shake up the town and change people's minds about dancing and such—the school has threatened to suspend him if he takes his girlfriend, who attends a public school, to her prom, and would deny him the right to attend graduation with his classmates. Should he be caught drinking or having sex, he'd be expelled.

Tyler followed the necessary procedure for obtaining permission to attend a secular prom, approaching the school's principal with the correct forms. The principal, who signed the form, then took Tyler's case to the school committee, who came down with the harsh consquences. "I didn't think it'd be anything this serious," Frost told local NBC affiliate WNWO, "after going to school there for 13 years I'd like to think they'd have a little more trust in me."

Tim England, the principal of the school, apparently has less trust in the secular school girls than in Frost himself, noting that "at a prom there will be many young ladies who will be dressed in the current styles which would be low cut dresses and things like that and there will be dancing. How does a young man protect his mind and not have wrong thoughts or lustful thoughts in a situation like that?"

One wonders how England expects Frost to handle his "lustful thoughts" once he leaves the confines of Heritage Christian and heads out into the real world, where—gasp—women wear low-cut shirts and show their legs, which is NOT an invitation for sex, but a personal style choice. England's mentality is the bullshit administrator equivalent of saying, "Well, she wore a skirt, she was asking to be raped on her way home from work." How does a young man protect his mind around young girls in low cut dresses? Perhaps by being taught the realities of sexuality, about respecting women, about not being ashamed of one's sexual feelings but recognizing that there are appropriate boundaries. "Protecting" kids from sex, rock and roll, and dancing is only going to make them view themselves as dirty or bad, and others who engage in such things as dirty or bad, instead of setting up healthy, natural views on sexuality that they can carry with them throughout their lives.

Frost believes he has the right to attend his girlfriend's prom, and plans on attending, regardless of the consequences. "Stand up for what you think is right and if you've committed yourself to go and you believe there's nothing really wrong with going then... go." You go, indeed, Tyler.

Christian School To Teen: Skip Prom [MSNBC]
Suspended For Going To Prom? [Toledo On The Go]

There are certain social abilities that, whether we like it or not, we're often expected to have. One of those skills, unfortunately for wallflowers like myself, is dancing.

I am a terribly shy person in "real life," to the point where, if I'm wearing black, it's hard to differentiate where my body ends and the wall begins. This is not because I don't want to be socializing; it's because I am dreadful at it and have a terrible time with crowds and strangers. The conversation in my brain doesn't match up with the words that come flying out of my mouth; in my mind, I'm zinging left and right, but what comes out is "Oh, yes. I like that television show as well."

However, when I'm with a group of friends, I'm good, I'm all right, I'm myself and ready to go. Until somebody says the dreaded words: "Let's go dancing!" To which my brain responds: Oh god oh no oh shit oh for fuck's sake oh what excuse can I make this time? How easy would it be to break my ankle right here?

For a non-dancer, the social anxiety attached to dancing is hard to even put into words. Let me just preface this by stating that not only am I too shy too dance, I am terrible at dancing. I make Elaine Benes look like Mikhail Baryshnikov. But dancing is an unavoidable part of socializing: it begins with middle school dances, rooms filled with peers who suddenly have abilities you didn't know about, dancing around like professionals to such gems as the Tootsie Roll and Skee-lo's "I Wish" while you, the Wallflower, stare at Brian Murphy's ears and think, "If only I could do the damn butterfly! Then he'd love my coke bottle glasses and brace face!"

In high school, of course, the proms come around. Luckily, I had mono during the prom, and actually had a physical reason why I couldn't dance. "My spleen will explode," I told everyone. "It will just shoot out and get all over your dresses and rented tuxedos." In college, I was able to avoid dancing by acting like it was beneath me: the clubs were gross and dancing was a waste of time. But that didn't last very long: at every party I went to, people were dancing and having fun, and once again I found myself on the wall, scared to death.

The recent onslaught of weddings I've been invited to has only increased my wallflower anxiety. At one recent function, I looked around and noticed that myself, a guy who was too drunk to stand, and a couple in their 80's were the only people not on the dance floor. A friend of mine came over to yell at me. "You should be dancing," she said, in her best Bee Gee voice.

"I look stupid dancing," I told her.

"Everyone looks stupid dancing," she said. "That's what alcohol is for."

A long pep talk and a few drinks later, she had dragged me onto the dance floor. Everyone around me turned into Brian Murphy from 7th grade. "Oh god," I thought, "I still can't do the butterfly." But then something somewhat awesome happened: I caught glimpses of some of the people I'd grown up with, dancing terribly, with huge smiles on their faces. I was in the company of former wallflowers, former dorks and nerds and geeks who had somehow learned to say "Fuck it, I'm dancing anyway, I don't care what the Brian Murphy's of the world think." And so we danced around for a while, and I did my spot-on Elaine Benes impression, to much acclaim.

I am still not a fan of dancing, and 99% of the time I freeze up at the suggestion. It takes a lot to get me on the dance floor (and a few Shirley Temple Blacks) but like most things in life, once I realized that you don't have to be perfect at something to be successful at it, I was finally able to get past my fears and just dance like an idiot with the rest of the world. Because as stupid as I feel when I'm dancing, it doesn't feel nearly as dumb as I feel when my back is attached to the wall, staring at the crowds with a deer-in-the-headlights look on my face.

I still can't do the butterfly, by the way. But I can Safety Dance with the best of them. So get out there, Wallflowers. You can dance if you want to. You can leave that wall behind. Cause the wall don't dance, and if it don't dance, well, you know how it goes.

(Click on any image to begin gallery view)

Earlier: It Was The Best Of Times, It Was The Worst Of Times: A Gallery Of Not So Gorgeous Bridal Fashions
When Animals Attract: Your Cuddly Childhood Creatures

Related: Red Carpet [NYT]

Seventeen

Appearance: Hayden's makeup is fresh, light, and appropriate for impressionable young kiddies: Light pink lips, just a hint of color on the cheeks. There is no visible cleavage, and, for the most part, her hair covers up her bare arms and armpits. Cover Lines: Talk about chaste! There's "cute" jewelry, "pretty" hair secrets and no mention of sex, save for "sexy [hair] cuts" and "The Kissing Disease No One Wants To Talk About!". And as for clothes, there's both a "free" tank top and hot celeb trends ("Under $20"). Cover Profile: Hayden expresses her love for Angelina Jolie, BFF Hilary Duff, explains her breakup with Laguna Beach's Stephen Colletti, talks about her love of shoes and gives advice on breakups. (Males, by the way, are referred to on the cover as "guys".)

Seventeen Prom

Appearance: Hayden shows more skin than on the magazine's namesake, including cleavage. Plus, there's a bit of cleavage, the Cosmo standard hand-on-hip, and a princess-y tiara set into her crispier-looking hair. Cover Lines: Not a lot of "sexy", but plenty of "amazing" "perfect" "pretty" and "best", as well as the chance to win a "free dress". As for guys, there is no mention of boys whatsoever, although their presence is implicit ("Sexy Shoes", "Your Best Prom Body (In Just Two Moves)"). Cover Profile: Written by the same author as the Seventeen profile, this story presents Hayden as just another prom-crazy secondary-schooler, explaining that her "biggest big night" was her prom, that she worries about who she should take to events as her date (um, we can think of one!), that her perfect prom date would be a "best girlfriend", and her own prom disaster story (a strap on her dress broke).

Cosmopolitan

Appearance: Standing before a va-va-va-voom red background, Hayden is shown with a lot more skin: visible cleavage, thigh and armpit. Lip and cheek colors are darker (does her slightly-larger parting of the lips indicate that she's been practicing the magazine's "Little Mouth Moves That Make Sex Hotter"?) Cover Lines: Where to start? This is definitely the slut's style guide. There's the aforementioned "Mouth Moves" — Question: Do "Mouth Moves" lend themselves to "Kissing Disease"? — the highly touted "Be A Sex Genius!", and all sorts of other suggestive words and phrases. Males are referred to as "men" as well as "guys", and there's no free tank tops here; readers can enter to win $10,000 and become "A Rich Bitch!". Cover Profile: Hayden, say Cosmo editors, is a "good bad girl" who wears sexy thigh-high boots to her interview, admits to drinking alcohol, and explains that every girl "likes feeling hot and sexy and beautiful and hearing it", does not want to be called "cute", and is "not as sweet as I look." Her heroines? Angelina, Natalie Portman and Meryl Streep. Also: There's no dishing on guys (like any seasoned, "serious", adult actress, she refuses talk about her personal life).

*Apparently, Seventeen and Cosmo have been trading female celebrity cover subjects for some time: Hayden, Rihanna, Ashlee Simpson, Carrie Underwood, Hilary Duff, Beyonce. What tends to be happen is that a starlet appears on Seventeen first, then on Cosmo a few months afterwards. How quickly these young ladies go from Swarovski-encrusted Sidekicks to Rabbit Habits!

Moeranter: wait, ok, so this ad is basically saying..
Moeranter: this bag will not last!
Moeranter: who makes up that copy?
Moeranter: i had to read like 3 times to understand that the BAG not LASTING was actually intended to create DEMAND for said bag...
Moeranter: cause generally, you think of a bag not lasting...and you think
Moeranter: yeah, because my foundation bottle broke and there are tiny flesh-colored shards of glass embedded everywhere.
Moeranter: or because the strap broke
Moeranter: which BTW happened with a kenneth cole backpack i bought like two months ago.
Moeranter: ok, another thought.
Moeranter: it is better to be novicely terrible at both drinking and sex
Moeranter: than old and experienced and good
Moeranter: nothing was as fun as getting drunk in high school
Moeranter: and nothing ever will be.
Moeranter: wait, also...
Moeranter: that ad is supposed to be like really offensive?
Moeranter: ???
annabananas: according to the feminist?
annabananas: yes
annabananas: not so much to me
Moeranter: that is like the least offensive ad ever
annabananas: i mean it's a little iffy but not enough to get all crazeee over
Moeranter: I mean who doesn't appreciate a rape joke now and then
Moeranter: as long as it isn't this DUMB??
[Kidding! —Ed.]

Rape: Both Marketable And Hilarious [Women In Media & News, via NowPublic]
Royal Servant [NYPost]