Why I Don’t Want to Time Travel Back to the ’90s

The other day Wade told me he was pretending to time travel back to the 1990s. Huh? I don’t know where that came from, but I told him I wasn’t coming. I lived through them once and didn’t care to go back. Here’s why:

1. Rolled jeans – Why did we think it was flattering to take a pair of high-waisted, acid-washed, baggy jeans and peg and roll them as tightly as possible at our ankles? I thought I was fat in high school. Actually it was just my jeans making my thighs look like sausages. Thank God someone finally invented the skinny jean.

2. The hair. What a nightmare hair was in the early 90s. Want to know the real cause of “climate change?” All the hairspray and electricity I used trying to get my hair just right. First you had to get a bad perm. Then you washed your hair and sprayed it with hairspray while it was still wet. That insured you curls dried nice and tight. Then you used hairspray, a comb and a searing hot blast from the hair dryer to “wing” your hair out on the side. Next you used a scorching hot curling iron to pouf your bangs. ( I think I still have a scar from a curling iron burn.) I spent an entire hour every morning just doing my hair! The problem was I wasn’t, and still am not, very good at hair styling. So even after 60 minutes this was the best I could accomplish: (Freshman year, 1989-90)

3. My high school boyfriend. OK, maybe I would time travel back to the ’90s if I could alter the course of history and NOT date this guy. That’s all I’ll say about it in public. Ask me in person, and I’ll tell you the whole angsty story. (Identity has been concealed because no one should be publicly humiliated for stupid stuff they did in the ’90s.) On a positive note, by my senior year I at least had my hair somewhat under control. (Prom, 1993) 

4. College Algebra. I spent the mid-90s in college which was actually a pretty good time in my life, except I had to take algebra to get a degree in Communications. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never used math to communicate. I failed the first time I took it. Then I met this guy, and I cried on his shoulder (Literally cried on his shoulder. Full on ugly cry.) that I was never going to graduate because of algebra. Then he taught me how to do equations and I passed. He was also a lot more awesome than my high school boyfriend, so I married him. (Circa 1997. Look how much better my hair was by then!)

5. Overalls with one shoulder unbuckled. I wore it. Not well. I don’t have a photo, thank goodness. Aren’t you glad Facebook wasn’t around then? There would be pictures everywhere of us wearing scrunchies, tiny backpacks and denim shirts with baggy khakis.

6. My belly button ring. Yep. I got my belly button pierced. I know. It seems uncharacteristic to those who’ve only known me in the New Millennium. Spring 1996 I’d just ended another misguided ’90s relationship that went on a year longer than it should have. In some strange celebration of emancipation, I went out and got my belly button pierced. It’s less painful than you think, and no, I wasn’t drunk when I did it. It was, however, not the best idea. The waist band of those darn high-waisted ’90s jeans constantly rubbed and pulled on it, so it was sore and little infected all the time. Definitely not one of my better ideas. I don’t have it anymore, and I’ll spare you the photos.

7. Too much Polo cologne. Where I came of age in the rural Midwest, it was fashionable for boys to drench themselves in Polo cologne in an effort to impress girls. It didn’t impress us, but it choked and gagged us and made us a little high, so we didn’t notice what morons those guys really were. Sort of like a milder ruffie. I blame all my poor dating choices on it.

8. Eastland loafers. For some reason we thought our pegged and rolled jeans and layered socks were best set off with a pair of brown loafers. We also couldn’t just tie the shoes. We had to do this fancy thing to the end of the laces. We. Were. So. Cool. NOT!

9. All the weird part-time jobs I had. I stuffed fliers into newspapers, sorted and packed mushrooms for Campbells, worked in an Amish noodle factory and sold over-priced athletic shoes to bratty teenagers. Although none of that holds a candle to being a mom of two boys!

10. Awkward teenage years of teenage angst. Really, why would anyone what to re-live their teenage years? I’m such a better person now: So much happier, I know who I am and I like myself that way. I’m confident, mature and much kinder. My hair is pretty good now too. I’m a year away from 40, and I’m not looking back.