Dear Diary: Homecoming Sash

By Staff Writer Amrita Gunasekaran

Introduction

     Caught in the whirlwind of Homecoming royalty is a single glossy, slightly conceited Homecoming court sash. Fresh out of its box, this strip of satin expects red carpets and special treatment, but gets a reality check from the merciless world of high school instead. Follow along with this sash as it navigates the chaos of homecoming and a severe identity crisis.

September 11 @ 11:30 a.m.

     Two weeks before Homecoming, and I have finally been ripped out of that suffocating plastic wrapper. Naturally, I had assumed I’d be laid out on velvet under halo lighting, because look at me — I’m gorgeous. But guess what? I’ve instead landed in a velvet-free basket. And to make matters worse, my cheek is pressed against a Christmas-themed polyester jester hat and a bent plastic sword. Don’t these people know I don’t wear polyester? Especially not in green and red! Ugh, no one knows good fashion any more. 

September 21 @ 12:55 p.m.

     The Homecoming Kickoff Assembly is here, and my runaway debut is now a backstage fitting disaster. A sweating coordinator rips me out and flings me over Candidate One. That burgundy is — yank — oh my goodness. I just got snatched off like a clearance sweater. Slapped onto Candidate Two, I’m now getting poked by giant safety pins right at my hem. Hey, watch it Edward Scissorhands! I’m ticklish. I don’t really enjoy being passed around like this. Wait a second … am I a rental? Whose shoulder do I actually belong to? 

September 23 @ 12:55 p.m.

     The Kickoff Assembly is over, and everyone is whisper-yelling about which homecoming court nominee cheated on which candidate’s boyfriend and who buys their dresses second hand. Could never be me. As much as I love hearing about all this, I can’t tell who these candidates are beneath the surface. It all just seems … superficial. It’s deliciously toxic, but it’s giving me an existential crisis. Is this what my life is reduced to? A participation prize in some irrelevant high school beef? What if the person who wins me just uses me for a 0.5x photo dump on her spam account and then tosses me away? The thought of being draped over someone who only wants clout makes my satin curl. 

September 25 @ 6:15 p.m.

     It is finally Homecoming night. I am carried outside in the plastic bucket toward the amphitheatre, flapping in the autumn wind. Backstage in the cold, the nominees are huddling up, shivering in their semi-formal gowns and stiff suits. But wait … nobody is sabotaging anyone else? They’re holding hands, touching up each other’s makeup, and whispering pep talks through chattering teeth. Are they being … sweet? 

September 25 @ 8:20 p.m.

     The amphitheater speakers crackle to life, as the host for the night announces the winner’s name. A coordinator glides me over the winner’s shoulder, and I wrap around her in a supportive satin hug. And before my glitter can even pose for the phone flashes, the entire court swarms in, tackling us in a giant group hug, right on stage. I spent all this time worrying about where I belonged when I realized that being huddled with a group of screaming teenagers is exactly where I was always meant to be. And being squished in the dead center of all this love? Honey, I have never looked better.