The Pink Curse

(This isn't exactly what you think it is.)

I hate pink. I really do. I have for years. The me and pink thing goes WAAAAY back. Really. And, yet, somehow, I keep getting involved in things that foist pink upon me in all shapes, sizes and forms. And it's never just a light, subdued, quiet little pink. No, it's always unequivocal, undeniable PINK. (The more I type it, the more I realize I don't even like how it's spelled. It's really a dumb color AND word.)

First, several years ago, I became a Mary Kay consultant (part-time at first, now VERY part-time). Ok, so no one forced me to do this. I love their products and figured trying sales would be an interesting way to "get out of my comfort zone." The only problem is...all the pink. Luckily, the point at which I signed on was when they were switching all their compacts (and some of their packaging) from pink to platinum. 'Cause, seriously, if becoming I consultant had meant selling pink compacts, I don't think I could have done it.

And so now there's the breast cancer thing. And the pink ribbons. And I freakin' hate'em. I do. I'm sorry, but I do. If it was JUST the ribbons, I might be able to take it. But there are pink t-shirts, hats, pillows, websites, scarves, teddy bears...the list goes on and on. Everyone talks about how the "Race for the Cure" events are a "sea of pink." (Luckily, when I did the Avon 3-day back in 2001 the colors were blue and white, for which I am eternally grateful.) Now, I want to raise awareness as much as the next person (ok, more than the next person, 'cause the next person has probably never gone through it), but I just don't think I can do it in pink.

I was surfing Cafe Press looking for BC-related t-shirts the other day and my favorite one is "Find a cure already, pink is not my color." I'd buy it, except it's pink.