When I was growing up, my family didn’t skirt around the fact that they would have preferred a boy. Since I was a child and of course wanted my parents acceptance, I convinced myself I hated pink, or anything girly for that matter. If it was “for girls”, I had no use for it. I was a proud proclaimed tomboy.
It took me a long time to realize I never actually disliked the color pink. I was just trying to reject the representation of what I perceived as a feminine indicator. In my adolescent reasoning, only girly girls liked pink, and I certainly didn’t want anyone to think I was a girly girl. I liked dirt, snakes and science. You know, boy stuff. (Ha)
Playing this role for so long, I just adapted to it and somewhere along the way I forgot it wasn’t even based in fact. It was all a defense mechanism for my insecurities and fear of rejection.
In my early 20’s I attended a Paul Mitchell cosmetology school. It was the first time I even tried to embrace my femininity. Unfortunately, with not only a lack of support from my ex-husband, but mockery and teasing because that wasn’t the “kick-ass tomboy” he’d met years ago, it wasn’t something I felt confident in.
Thankfully, at 28 I met my best friend and partner who has encouraged me all the way about being the feminine woman I want to be. These days I buy more dresses than jeans and I surround myself in as much pink as I want to. It feels pretty fabulous to live a more authentic life, even on the smallest, seemingly insignificant levels like the color you choose to tint your world with. 🌷🌺🌸