Name that Movie

I don't know what possessed me to do it, as I have not done such a thing in my entire adult life. But, sometime last year, at the end of the winter clothing season, I saw a sweater on clearance at the store. I picked it up. Odd, for me, because it is a color I never wear. (Never. EVER.) But it was cheap. And I WAS looking for something to brighten up my predominantly black wardrobe. So, I bought it.

Then, since it was the END of the winter, I brought it home and quickly forgot about it.

Until this past Christmas, when the annual deacons' Christmas dinner rolled around at church. I had happened upon the sweater a few weeks prior, and I figured that I would get it washed and ready for the party.

On the night of the party, I put the sweater on and walked into the kitchen where my husband was getting the kids ready for the sitter. I can honestly say (and I am sure he'll argue this) that I swear I didn't get as much reaction from him when I came down the aisle in my wedding dress as I did wearing this sweater.

Maybe it was the color that caught him off guard. I don't know. But his face LIT UP, and he said something to the effect that he liked how I looked.

My "style," when I choose to have one, could be described as "clean" or "sophisticated." So, in keeping with that, I wore my new strand of pearls with the sweater, and a collared shirt underneath. Still, I wasn't too sure what I thought of it.

But I wore the whole ensemble again a few weeks later at a gathering of "the girls" from college. After dinner, I went to use the restroom, and I found myself staring at this image in the mirror. It was an image of a bright sweater, with my head sticking out of it.

It just looked so silly on me. Not a soul in the world would have said I looked silly in this color. (In fact, I get several compliments every time I wear the sweater.) But I felt, well, SILLY. When I say that I have not worn this color in my entire adult life, I am not kidding. Here it is:



So, what's wrong with this color you ask? Nothing, per se. I know a lot of women wear this color. But ME in this color is, uh.... icky?

Why? Not because it doesn't look good. It's not about how the pink looks. It's about what pink "means." To me, pink stands for everything cute. And cute is not my MO. Pink is teddy bears and hearts, ruffles and bows, styled hair and painted toe nails. It is the epitome of "girly" and that just ain't me.

I recently had a conversation with some women from church. One of them is quite the fashionista. We were discussing hair and clothes... go figure. When I described my general feelings about pink, my friend said that pink can be sophisticated if it was done "right," offering the example of wearing it with pearls. (Phew, at least I got THAT part right!) Then we talked about how I can't style my hair the way I want to because it requires that I buy a straightener. When asked why I don't just buy a straightener, I laughed, and explained that it wasn't worth it since I only style my hair once a week.

Well, my other friend (Shannon) gave me a straightener this past week. So, today I figured that I would go crazy and, with those two ladies in mind, I got out my pink sweater, my pearls, and my straightener (but, sadly, no hearts adorned the outfit...) and arrived at church in all my done-hair, pink-donning, girly splendor.

I announced to my husband before we left that today was the one day of our marriage that I was going to be high-maintenance. (As if he hadn't already figured this out when it took me ALL morning to get my hair done and he had to get the kids ready for church practically by himself.)

"Why?" he asked. (So innocent, he is.)

"Because it's raining," I said, "and I don't want it to rain on my hair. So you are going to have to drop me off at the door this morning."

I'm sure he was wondering why I suddenly cared so much about my hair... the girl who loves the rain and would rather just have it get her hair wet than try to dodge it. So I explained about Shannon and the straightener, and told him that I wanted her to see how my hair came out before it got ruined. I have no doubt that, after dropping me off, he drove away with his finger to his head, making a circular motion to anyone who might have been watching.

So I hunted down the girls at church this morning to show off my look. One of them asked me the strangest question. She asked me how it made me feel.

Um.... pink. It made me feel pink. And when I looked in the mirror, I thought "that's a stinking lot of pink." And when I sat in the pew, I felt as though I was emitting cosmic rays of pink to everyone around me. So. Very. Pink.

So here is a picture of me in something more normal. Not dressed up, mind you, but something you might find me in on an average day (which is why my hair isn't done either.)

And I guarantee you I don't feel "green" when I wear this.

So there you have it. The only girl in the country who doesn't like pink.

Molly Ringwald, I am not.