A Real Working Mood Ring

by Ashlee Gadd

The 90’s called and want their everything back. 

I can’t remember if this is a joke I heard or a headline I saw recapping a number of 90’s trends that are back in style. From slip dresses and overalls to mom jeans and crop tops, the 90’s are having a comeback moment, and not everyone loves it. While I continue to thank the Lord we’re not waxing our eyebrows like that anymore, there are a number of 90’s trends I myself have embraced in the past year, namely the fanny pack—“belt bag” if you want to be bougie about it—and bike shorts. 

But do you know what I really miss from the 90’s? Mood rings.

According to Wikipedia, mood rings originated in the 70’s, but I cannot possibly think of an accessory that better marks my 90’s childhood than a simple sterling band holding a color-changing “gemstone” in the shape of a heart. I don’t remember exactly how old I was when I first got one, but I know I was already hyper-aware of boys, because I remember talking to boys about my mood ring. A deep violet color meant you were happy and “in love.” You can only imagine the romantic conversations this sparked while dissecting frogs in fifth grade science. 

(Sidenote: are we still doing that? Because it was gross then, and seems ever grosser now.)

At ten years old, even I knew the mood ring changed color based on temperature (see: me, warming my hands obsessively anytime I got near my elementary school crush, just in case he should happen to notice the romantic violet color beaming from my hand and finally be moved to confess his feelings for me via crumpled paper love note). Yet there was a teeny tiny part of me that liked to believe, like a child rooting for Santa, that the mood ring was real. 

Apparently you can still order mood rings today, but I’d like to propose we step up the technology a bit. I mean, we’ve got wristbands that track our sleep and cars that drive themselves. We’re talking about sending people to Mars for crying out loud. Surely someone in Elon Musk’s inner circle contains the necessary tech to create real working mood rings? Something that doesn’t just change color based on the simple temperature of a person’s finger, but somehow has a connecting pulse on the infinite varying mental states any given human experiences in a 24-hour day?

You know I love a killer accessory, and that a mood ring would definitely pair well with my belt bag/bike shorts ensemble, but this isn’t even about the resurgence of 90’s trends. 

I’m pleading on behalf of my marriage.

I can’t stop thinking how handy it would be for my husband to be able to glance at my hand and boom—instantly know my emotional state. No guessing required. No digging for hints. No more “what’s wrong?” questions in the kitchen. Perhaps it could even come with a chart for easy directions on how to act accordingly. 

Red —> Hostile —> avoid until color changes

Green —> Playful —> engage in friendly competition 

Yellow —> Resentful —> do the dishes ASAP

Blue —> Romantic —> good time to offer a “back rub”

Silicon Valley nerds, are you listening? This is a million dollar idea. 

Will someone please take this to Shark Tank? I’ll be first in line to buy. 

///

I know in 2023, we’re supposed to be guarding our daughters against the glorification of damsels in distress, but my four-year-old daughter is obsessed with all things Disney princess, and I feel helpless to stop it at this point. 

While the dress-up antics are darling, and while I never tire of her singing and twirling around the house, I will tell you the part I was not prepared for: the dramatic reenactments. If you, too, are raising a girl enchanted by Ariel and Belle, surely you’re familiar with these scenes:

Princess is distraught.
Princess storms away. 
Princess collapses on the bed/ocean floor in a fit of tears. 

The first time Presley organically acted out one of these episodes, I broke into a fit of shocked laughter. I don’t even remember why she was upset, but there is a 99% chance we had just turned off Bluey. 

“That’s IT!!!” she yelled into the abyss of the living room. “I’m leaving!!!”

She stormed down the hallway into her room, and collapsed on her bed in fake sobs. 

Her reaction was so dramatic, so unexpected, an Academy-Award winning performance if I’ve ever seen one. Someone get this girl an agent already!

“Teenage years are gonna be fun, huh?” I joked to my wide-eyed husband. 

I couldn’t help but recall the (obnoxious, unsolicited) words well-meaning strangers had cautioned my entire pregnancy: Just you wait … girls are SO emotional. 

Did they think I didn’t know?

I myself can run up and down the emotional gamut of a melodramatic princess across a 75-minute Disney plot. Only instead of outwardly showcasing my emotions, à la singing joyfully through a forest and/or dramatically collapsing on my bed in a fit of tears, I have spent the majority of my adult years learning how to keep my outbursts bottled up inside me so as to not appear dramatic.

A few weeks ago, during family dinner, I casually said something about crying in the shower. 

My sweet husband looked downright shocked. 

“You do that?!” 

I laughed at the surprise on his face. Yes, sir. You don’t?! 

///

A few months ago there was a funny reel circulating on Instagram. In the video, a man is sitting on a couch scrolling his phone while his wife melodramatically falls down next to him wrapped in a blanket like a burrito. The caption reads: when your husband stops asking what’s wrong after the 4th time, but you were going to tell him on the 5th. 

I watched it three times, both laughing and cringing at the accuracy. 

A few weeks ago, I co-led a writing workshop where we asked participants to write their entire life story in a series of headlines. One participant volunteered to read her entries out loud, and a few of us chuckled when she got to, “Did I marry the wrong person?” 

Her question brought me right back to my own first year of marriage when, no doubt, both my husband and I were asking that question on the regular. I don’t remember much from that reality check of a year, but I do remember Brett asking, “What’s wrong?” something like 80 times a week. Every time he asked, I grew more and more upset. 

Bless my naive, self-absorbed, 21-year-old heart. Apparently I had married a regular human husband, not a mind-reader. 

I wish I could tell you I’ve outgrown this. That fifteen years into marriage, I am an older, wiser version of myself. A better communicator, far too mature for these ridiculous guessing games. 

Unfortunately, the last time my real life resembled that Instagram reel was only weeks ago, in the days following Christmas. Lucky for me, my husband didn’t stop asking ‘what’s wrong?’ I finally told him on the fourth time. 

The post-Christmas conversation went like this: 

Him: I can tell something’s wrong. 

Me: I’m fine.

<< repeat three times >>

Him: I can tell something’s wrong.

Me: OKAY, FINE. (Insert two-minute emotional summary over broken expectations and severe regret over having any expectations to begin with.)

It would have been a lot easier with a mood ring, though. 

What color do you think best represents, This entire month has sucked the life out of me and I am feeling a tiny bit invisible and under-appreciated and while I know gifts are not the point of Christmas, as I watched everyone open all of their presents (chosen, purchased, and wrapped by me), I felt a little sad when I opened that one small gift from you, that cost $24, that you ordered via Amazon at the very last second?

I listened to a podcast this morning which wasn’t about marriage at all, but this one line caught my ear: “Everything you want is on the other side of a difficult two-minute conversation.”

That is likely a severe oversimplification for many scenarios, but I’m also pretty sure 90% of the marital issues between my husband and I—in this particular season—could, indeed, be solved with a difficult two-minute conversation. (The other 10% involve professional counseling and hours and hours and hours of dialogue, which should never begin at 11pm, FWIW).

In the end, he apologized. We hugged, kissed, and the whole thing was over within minutes. Christmas was December 25th. We had this conversation on December 28th. If you’re doing that math with me—yes, I was basically walking around the house in a blanket burrito, emo style, for three whole days. 

And I suppose what I’m learning, and continue to learn, is that guessing games are fine for elementary school crushes, but they’re not doing my marriage any favors. Those difficult two-minute conversations are never fun, but they’re often necessary, especially for those of us married to regular humans incapable of telepathy. As it turns out, the work of openly communicating my feelings and emotions—good or bad—is on me, not him. 

What can I say? I’m working on it. 

In the meantime, though, I’ll still be tuning into Shark Tank and hoping they figure out that mood ring.

---

Ashlee Gadd is the founder of Coffee + Crumbs. Her book, Create Anyway: the Joy of Pursuing Creativity in the Margins of Motherhood hits bookshelves March 28, 2023.

---