In case you were wondering if I’ve run out of ideas for posts about pink, I haven’t. I have several others filed away.
I thought about writing an affiliate link laden post about my favorite pink songs and movies. There were plenty to choose from.
I thought about writing about my beloved pink box that arrived when I got my Consultant Enrollment Kit from ThirtyOne Gifts.
I thought about a photo tour of my favorite pink things. I’m in the process of “pink bombing” both the bedroom and kitchen. (I may have just made that term up.)
But instead I’ve got a story for you. It’s about what happened this week as I embraced pink.
Actually, it started about six months ago when I got a bounty of hand-me-over clothes from a girlfriend who was cleaning out her closet. My husband said I looked hotter in HER clothes than in mine. It was a major wake up call.
(i shudder at the google traffic that phrase will bring. giggle.)
Frankly, I haven’t felt “hot” in years. Sad, but true.
I ordered the blouse.
I started thinking (and writing) about pink.
Thursday, the blouse finally arrived. It wasn’t exactly pink.
It was coral. Or maybe salmon. In the eyes of my kids, it was bright orange-pink of an almost glow-in-the-dark nature.
It was a shade I would NEVER EVER consider wearing.
My mother and my grandmother both taught me not to wear coral. No idea why, but it was always dismissed. I got the vague impression that it wasn’t a “nice” color.
It was most definitely NOT black. Or grey. Or navy. Or any of the other safe earthy colors I gravitate towards.
It was a bad girl color.
And I still remember about that “hotter in her clothes” comment.
Tentatively, I put it on. I was almost afraid to look in the mirror. But I did. It wasn’t bad. I quickly stripped it off and pretended the package never arrived. I wasn’t ready to embrace THAT shade of pink.
Friday, I put the blouse on.
I added some jewelry that matched.
I paired it with my cutest jeans and shoes.
I did my hair. I did my makeup.
I was as filled with insecurity and as self-conscious as I could get without actually wearing fish net stockings, red hooker heels, and a corset.
I asked my husband one last time
Are you sure I look ok in day-glow orangey pink?
And then I went and stood in the middle of the football field for over two hours for the pre-spring-break fun-run at school. After that, I drug my kids around town for lunch and errands.
I wore that bad-girl all day long.
I embraced the pink.
I had five different girl friends at school say “wow, you look hot!” I had three strangers complement me on my blouse color. I had several MEN tell me I looked pretty.
And if you can’t hear me singing and shouting and jumping up and down at that last part then you aren’t listening.
As it turns out, Audrey Hepburn was right. So was Elizabeth Hurley. So was Jayne Mansfield, and even Miley Cyrus.
With enough Pink Pony Sparkle Power I think I could rock the world. Or at least my little corner of it.
Doesn’t that just wrap a big pink ribbon around the week and tie it in a bow?Buffer