Short Stories

Bobby Pins: The Ultimate Mystery

The feeling you get when you buy a new pack of bobby pins is great. It’s the start of something new, an exciting venture into pin up hairstyles and hopelessly trying intricate designs.

You forget about the dark days of floppy buns and sweaty bangs in the gym. The time when the first bobby pin of the last pack went missing and you subconsciously knew it was the beginning of the end.

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I’ve had this bobby pin for almost a year now, the last of its pack, a lone wolf.

Unlike its predecessors, this one has stuck with me through thick and thin. The day it disappears is a dreaded one because I know the next pack will be of a lower quality; for some reason never being able to find the brand you really liked.

Where do all the bobby pins go? Those 49 that went missing, why? I thought I was careful, always providing a designated safe space for the pack; but it wasn’t enough, as is always the case for things we find near and dear to our hearts.

Were they hoovered up? Knowing the nozzle of doom has taken all chances they had for a full life as you hear the ding ding dinging of one hitting the walls of the tube.

Did I forget you by the bathroom sink in the changing rooms? Left to be taken by someone desperate enough because they too have lost all their bobby pins without realising it? Only they were saved by Saint Bobby Pin of the Sink, hallelujah!

I’m sorry I never gave you all the attention you deserved, for all the times I stuck you in my dirty hair or left you, forgotten, on the floor in the corner, slowly gathering dust balls to yourself to keep the cold at bay.

This is my punishment, and I have learned my lesson. Now I keep a hawk’s gaze on my last remaining bobby pin, always keeping track, never misplacing it.

There have been a few close calls, where I spend 20 minutes in the morning frantically searching for you, only to find you blending into the brown wood of my dresser. You are my favourite bobby pin, and I will try to hold onto you for as long as I can. But I know, one day, you will need to leave, to do your bobby pin duties to some other poor sod, more desperate than I; or to pass onto hoover heaven. I will not judge you and I will try to be strong when the time inevitably comes. To go to the place where no one can follow, and do what bobby pins do.

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