Pink is my favorite color.
I made this my favorite color for the stupidest reasons ever. Like many children, I was subject to our gender stereotypical society. Girls were supposed to like pink and play with Barbies. So, as a young kid, I went after anything and everything in the pink color family and owned more Barbies than I could count. Growing older caused many of my interests to shift and change to the complete opposite of what I once valued. You could say I’d become an entirely different person.
Twenty-six years later, though, I still own a lot of pink and have grown up to be a Barbie collector. My inner six year old isn’t ready to leave any time soon.
While my preferred shade has changed over the years, I remained firm on my love for the color Pink. As my friends grew up, their favorite colors dance from blue to green to orange, I always chose pink. There was a sense of loyalty I felt to the color whenever I heard of a childhood companion’s shift to another hue of the rainbow. I might have followed suit, but I didn’t want to seem as fickle as my friends or seem like I was just following the crowd.
I tried to be different than the others by staying the same.
Then, the color went from just a favorite aesthetic to an aspect of me.
Pink, somehow, became a part of my identity. At every opportunity, I choose the pink option. My iPhone was pink. My laptop was pink. Hell, my entire college dorm room had elements of various shades of the pink family. Anything and everything has to somehow contain pink.
I know it seems weird, but I suppose it was like constantly being in contact with an old friend. One of my oldest and closest friends.
Pink is one of those aesthetics that makes me feel safe. We all have them. It can be a favorite scent, sound, or color. As the world and our own senses of self evolve and shift over time, they are the elements that bring us back to ourselves. There’s always those things in life that we experience via the senses that bring us an indescribable sense of familiar calm.
We stick to the familiar because we know ourselves there.
Even in writing, I have my favorites. Normally, I love to start my writing with a quote from someone with a much greater writing talent than my own. Memoir pieces shift back and forth from paragraph to paragraph when it came to story telling versus speculation. Longer research papers always had to half block quotes. My sentence structures were naturally long and wordy. My writing habits became as my favorite color was.
Those styles were familiar.
However, no matter the genre, the word aforementioned must appear at least once in whatever I can possibly write. I always thought it made me sound so much smarter than I think I am. Like pink, it’s one of those safety net things that’s just become part of who I am.
No matter what, I will always think pink.