Pretty in Pink

I was very much a tomboy as a kid. I loved fishing and camping, I built countless forts with my brothers, I caught snakes for fun, and I had what I considered a healthy aversion to all things pink. I got a little more "girly" as I grew older, but I never outgrew my dislike of the color pink.

Wait... did I just say "never"? I may have spoken too soon.

Up until recently I prided myself on not owning a single item of pink clothing. My last pink garment was a jumpsuit I wore in junior high. I looked back on those rose-tinted days with a hint of shame. For more than fifteen years I didn't even consider adding anything pink to my wardrobe. The very idea gave me a little shiver of distaste. I was a grown woman, after all. An intelligent, serious-minded, grown woman. Let the bimbos and cheerleader-types have their pink sweaters; me, I'd head for the earth tones every time.

Something has come over me in recent years, however, and I started seeing pink in a new light. At first it was just little things--a cute pink votive cup, maybe, or pink-striped hand-towels. After I let a few pink items into my life and didn't suffer any ill effects, I added a few more. I bought the cutest coffee service with pink flowers on it. I picked out a bright and cheerful bedding set with a lot of pink in the pattern, and I hanged some pink-and-white pictures on my bedroom wall. And I gave more than a passing thought to putting some pink in my closet.

I didn't do anything drastic at first. I bought a pair of pink socks. Later I added a lacy pink bra. When wearing those went well, I branched out and purchased my first pink shirt in I don't know how many years. To be fair, it was barely pink--more of a dusty rose that could easily be called "mauve"--but I had to start with baby steps so as not to risk overloading my senses. As time went by I grew more and more accustomed to seeing pink around me, and the more I saw it the more I liked it.

It wasn't until recently, though, that I realized just how much I liked it. My nine-year-old daughter and I were shopping in a local department store a couple of weeks ago and I saw her checking out a pair of pink gloves. "You like those?" I asked her.

"They're okay," she said, "but they seem more like something for you. You know, since they're pink."

My first reaction was to laugh. Pink? For me? Was she joking? She looked a little puzzled at my amusement. "They match your coat," she said and held the gloves up against my sleeve. "See?"

I looked down and then suddenly I did see. The new wool coat I'd bought last fall was indeed pink. Not only that, but I was carrying a pink handbag, and inside that handbag was a pink Hello Kitty wallet. So help me, I was girlier than a very girly nine-year-old and I didn't feel a bit of shame about it.

I did stop short of buying the gloves, though. A girl's gotta know her limits.