Exhausted, ready to sink into my bed and dream the night away I dragged myself into the bathroom to wash my face. Clean skin was the only thing standing between me and sweet, sweet slumber and all I needed was just one bobby pin to hold back my bangs.  As I fumbled through all the drawers and dug under the sink, frustration began to creep in as it dawned on me that I couldn’t put my hands on even one measly bobby pin to accomplish this extremely important task.  This seemed to happen often.  Flashback…

2002: High school prom.  My gorgeous updo required around 70 bobby pins.  But after hours of dancing to that kickin’ prom playlist with hits such as Pink’s “Get the Party Started” and Shakira’s “Whenever, Wherever” I probably only made it home with 40 or so.

2006: Ciara’s wedding.  I was sporting some sassy, short hair so I only needed one bobby pin for this occasion.

2007: Formal, fundraising event.  My medium-length hair needed about 30 bobby pins.  I was cool, calm, and collected throughout the evening so I’m sure I made it home with all 30.

2011: International trip to attend a friend’s wedding.  Forty plus brand new bobby pins went with me. Sadly, not all of them made it back through customs.

Updo after updo flashed through my mind.  The volume of bobby pins that I had accumulated throughout the years was staggering. And yet, in my moment of need, I was unable to locate even one. Where had they all gone?  Was this a cosmic joke? A big “gotcha” from the universe?

I consider myself an organized person.  Many have referred to me as a “neat freak” and I may (or may not) have self-diagnosed myself with having Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  I reveled in my ability to organize my life. To not be able to locate a singular bobby pin was unfathomable and a slight bruise to my ego.  But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from life it’s to never give up!

And so I persevered. I navigated the neat maze of hair and bathroom accoutrements that had collected under my sink.  I searched in every nook, every cranny, and every crevice. There was no bag or box too small to escape this expedition.  And when I thought I had exhausted all possibilities, there it was…in the bottom of my travel bag.

My confidence was restored!  I had faced this challenge and I came out ahead!  Crowds cheered in my head and once again I declared that I was indeed the master of my universe!  

I returned to the task of pulling my hair back to scrub my face squeaky clean. My pillow was calling my name and sleep seemed within reach.  I reached into the bottom of my bag and pulled out my one and only bobby pin left in this world.

Rusted. Shut.

Well played universe, well played.

Now where did I put that scrunchie?

Rachel Cole/Author
Celeste Greenlee/Editor