Let me tell you a story about a friend of mine. Let’s call her…uhh…glooking-mass lama. This friend of mine is married with two boys (wow, just like me! Who’d have thought?) and has noticed an odd change in her life since her youngest was born.
Glooking-mass lama finished brushing her teeth and placed her new toothbrush in the holder. As she did, she glared at it sullenly.
It was pink.
Not the bristles – no, it wasn’t a sign of gingivitis like all the ads say to watch out for.
No. Her new toothbrush was pink. Well, pink and black to be specific. But still, pink.
It wasn’t really that big an issue. She doesn’t have a problem with pink in general. She has even been known to wear it on occasion. She does take issue with pink being a “girly” colour and object to being given things in pink purely because of her gender, but the colour itself isn’t an issue.
The issue is that she purchased it. For
myself herself. Of all the colours available, her hand had unconsciously moved to the pink toothbrush.
Again, that isn’t such a big thing.
The problem was, this wasn’t the first time.
It started off fairly innocuously – she needed a new iPad cover. Her signature red wasn’t available in the style she preferred, so she opted for a rather fetching yellow and pink design. No problems there – or so she’d thought.
She should have known. The salesman informed her there were matching iPhone covers coming in later that week. She capitulated. Now both iFruit devices are clad in pink.
Perhaps on reflection, the cases had been her gateway drug. Once hooked on a pink item she could conceal from the public, it was easy to move onto larger, more obvious items.
The hoodie was the next item. She tried to tell herself it was magenta, but deep down, she knew it was a lie. It was hot pink and everyone in a 5km radius knew it. She’d sold out for warmth and comfort.
After that she moved onto the harder stuff – feature items. Before she knew it, she’d bought a pink teething necklace. She had the option of red or black or yellow…or almost any other colour. She selected pink. Again.
And now the toothbrush.
She can’t even pretend she doesn’t know why it’s happening.
Or rather Y it’s happening.
Her second X chromosome is apparently railing against her feminist sensibilities and making her come home with progressively more pink.
She is determined to halt the tide, but I fear she may need to start attending Pink Anonymous meetings before long.
I think I might just go paint my toenails fuchsia to support her.