Now you can only find them near the cash registers at beach novelty stores, but these used to be a thing!
Mood rings: The young Millennial’s way of determining how they were feeling.
These were like the Magic 8 balls of your soul. They could inform you of your mood without you ever having to leave your bed.
For the youngest of our readers, mood rings were something kids in the 90s accessorized with. It was a happy, cheesy time. All That was on our TVs and these cheap metal bands were around our fingers.
The idea was that the color of the ring would change depending on your mood. Oooh. Ahhh. It was magical.
There were many rumors flying around from the skeptics on why the rings actually changed colors. Some claimed it had to do with your body temperature. Others claimed that your mood determined your body temperature so, potato, potatoe.
I don’t remember the exact age cut off for this particular nightmare, but I am assuming that if you are under twenty years old, you will have no recollection of this. Which is a blessing.
For the rest of it, it is my pleasure (as it is every Thursday) to drag you through the horrifying graveyard of your childhood decisions.
Today, we are not focusing on a tragic piece of clothing as is our normal Thursday Throwback style.
Last night as I was drifting off to sleep, I began to brainstorm what 90s fashion disaster I could verbally berate this week. I mentally raided the closet of my middle school self, throwing aside misshapen jeans and ill-fitting t-shirts with bizarre graphics. And as I scanned this room of yesteryear in my brain, my eye caught on something. Past the collection of blue, green, and purple eyeshadows (so that I could match my eyeshadow to my clothes, duh), sat furniture. Furniture I bought with my own allowance money. Furniture I was sure turned my pre-teen bedroom into a cool hangout/my own living room. Basically I imagined myself living in a tiny Soho apartment as an independent woman.
Let me clarify why I find it reasonable to rant on furniture rather than the style of the 90s.
Nothing so clearly defines where our heads were at. Maybe if we can understand why we thought this was okay, we can understand why we tried to make our heads look like some sort of hair collage and got so much amusement out of an amazing stretchy shirt.
This was a thing. More importantly, it was a thing that people bought. With their money. That could literally be used for anything else.
I know y’all are super excited because today is Throwback Thursday! Which means we are mercilessly judging the fashion horrors of days past.
We’ve been at this blog for a little over a month and I continue to be shocked and horrified by the fashion decisions we felt were a good idea.
Cringe-worthy fashion trends made their way into our closets, our billboards, our lives. One such shudderingly-horrible fashion movement – Skidz.
First-off, let me state that my love of grammar and diction causes me to have a knee-jerk reaction when companies use the “z” is place of an “s.” It’s not necessary. It does not make you trendy or Millennially-minded. It makes you incorrect. Don’t do it.
Thursday is quickly becoming my favorite day of the week. What is better for the soul than, right before the weekend, taking a hard-hitting look at what ridiculous fools we were in our youth.
Thank goodness we have a safe place to air out our past fashion grievances. There is strength in numbers and in knowing that you were not the only human who once wore tragically crooked press-on French nails to a Chinese buffet with your parents in middle school.
Or the only sixth grader who thought it was super cute to wear my father’s oversized sweatshirts over my too-tight jeans. My middle school logic was that if you couldn’t see my muffin top, I could still pull off, “This fits, I swear!”
And yet, nothing made this adorable, I’m-a-washed-up-forty-year-old-chainsmoker-stuck-in-the-body-of-an-eleven-year-old look more complete than decorated flip flops.
It’s Thursday, everyone. Time to leave our insecurities at the door and really get down to the nitty, gritty of past bad decisions.
This is a painful process. We recognize this. It is not supposed to be comfortable. If it was, everyday would be a throwback day. But it’s not. Because our souls can only handle one day of intense, agonizing soul searching a week.
People, this is serious. #SparkleNightmare was one thing, but today’s exploration goes even deeper than even that shiny purse night terror. Because this disaster of fashion past happened on our faces.
That’s right. Sorry y’all, but today is middle school make-up madness.
We have all seen that delightful picture floating around the Internet that compares today’s middle schoolers to the middle schoolers of days past.