When I was younger, I loved the color pink. Pink bedroom, pink pillows, pink pink pink. I was Pinkalicous before Pinkalicious.
And when I became a teenager and older, I stopped buying things that were pink and wearing pink and painting the walls pink. Because pink had become too young for me, no one would take a girl who liked pink seriously. That was for little kids.
And then I got over myself.
Granted, I’m past the ‘girl’ stage of my life. Past the 20’s where the most important thing is to be taken seriously. I am *gasp* 40, have started two professional careers, and I work with little kids. I have embraced my pink-love wholeheartedly, starting several years ago when I bought a pink laptop. And a pink mp3 player. It’s progressed to the point where if I want something, I check to see if it comes in pink.
It’s kind of how my writing has evolved. When I started, I was so worried about doing the ‘right thing’, writing ‘the right way’. I kind of stifled myself, and my writing sounded forced and stilted. Then I got over myself and it shows–I love a good sarcastic turn of phrase and strive to use them whenever possible. I find that my writing is better when I just let it out and don’t worry about what’s ‘right’.
You should see my nails. I have my nails done every other week, a promise I made to myself when I got a ‘real’ job. I love to choose my color, mostly shades of pink, but in the summer may include bright orange or even green. Last time it was pink with glitter. This time it’s a vibrant near-fuscia with a shimmer. *ah, I love pink* And I will continue to choose pink, until I am very old.
Because life is too short to be taken seriously all the time.