Scrunchies
I ripped open the box like a kid about to devour a bag of skittles. And like skittles, what was inside this box that I kept in safe keeping underneath my bed was very colorful and tempting. I looked down at my leotard and calculated about five different colors that could potentially match: blue, black, green, yellow, and silver. I dug into the box some more and finally withdrew the perfect hair scrunchie to match my leotard! I could see an almost glow of light haloing the scrunchie as I admired it. Then I suddenly heard a screeching voice in the background. The halo of light and that heavenly atmosphere was instantly flipped off as I turned around to see my best friend, Kelli Schwenkel, standing there with an absurd expression on her face. “What are you doing?” she griped at me. I felt like this was a dumb question so my mind wandered to more important matters…like which color hair scrunchie would match her leotard the best. “Ewwwwwww! What in the world are you doing Hannah!?” she said. Another dumb question. “Kelli, I’m just getting ready for gymnastics. What’s the deal?” I honestly had no idea what was going to come out of her mouth next, but then again, I never do. “Like oh my gosh Hannah, no one wears hair scrunchies anymore! This is the 21st century and you are definitely not with the times.” This little jab instantly annoyed me. How dare she make fun of them!? I had proudly collected over thirty multi-colored, beautifully designed hair scrunchies throughout my gymnastics career and I wasn’t about to let a rookie tell me what to wear to practice. Kelli tormented me for the next fifteen minutes about how I was stuck in the 80’s (ummm…excuse me, I wasn’t even alive in the 80’s), and that I needed to invest in some “normal” hair ties. The following scene is not suitable for a general audience, but I will say that after a few insults and minutes of physical combat, I was able to keep my precious box without losing any scrunchies. “Hannah…” she finally said in a sweet voice as a last attempt at rationalizing with me, “name one other freshman in our entire school that wears them.” I pondered this challenge for a few minutes, praying to God that ten girls would instantly appear in my mind. But no, nothing came to me. After a few minutes of silence, Kelli smiled victoriously. “I’ll give you an example,” she said, “Mrs. Whitman is the only other last remaining scrunchie wearer!” Oh my heavens, she was completely right I realized. “That’s not true,” I said lying to her face. Kelli rolled her eyes, she could see straight through me. I stared back down at the box in my hands. It was time to let go of this generation gap. Now when I say let go, I do not mean give up. The scrunchie box still resides under my bed behind a stack of summer reading books and old blankets. I frequently visit this old box just for memory’s sake. I still mentally debate which one would best showcase my leotard for the day. I test them for elasticity and put them in the washing machine ever year so that I won’t feel like I’m neglecting them. Maybe someday scrunchies will come back in style. I am keeping my fingers crossed. And when that day comes I will laugh and proudly pull out that special box. I will especially love to see how Kelli will react when she sees that I never donated them to Goodwill like I said I did. But for now, she doesn’t need to find out.
