Complaints: Pink

Pink.

Word association time: what does pink make you think of? Gumdrops. Frosting. Flowers. Little girls. Frills. Princess. (Hey, there's royal purple, but no royal pink.) Feminine. Valentine's Day. It's subjugation time! Little boys do not wear pink without people wondering about their later choices in life, and most men equally avoid the color in clothing. Men don't like pink; they like women wearing pink (or any other color). There's a pink aisle in toy stores filled with dollies and dress-up clothing, which, frankly, scares me.

What a silly word. It's not stately or dignified: it's fluffy and frivolous. There's no substance behind pink, no threat of damage nor promise of carry-through. The word even sounds like it possesses the strength of a cooked noodle and the vitality of laboratory fruit fly.

It's not even a real color. I mean, it's not part of the rainbow (there's no pink in ROY G BIV). Really, it's technically "light red," white added to crimson pigments. People will try to fool you by giving it an alias, like magenta or carnation or bubblegum or salmon or raspberry (who wants to eat raspberries that color?!). Don't be fooled. Some languages don't have a single word for pink, while Russian has a further distinction of "light blue" from regular blue.

Don't get me wrong, pink can do good, like gay pride and breast cancer awareness.

I hate pink.

P.S. This website of color names is fascinating!

Complaint: Shopping

Have I mentioned that I hate shopping? It's one of the most frustrating and body-image-problem-creating ventures ever invented. You drive to an over-priced department store (because the cheap-o places have crappy clothes that fall apart after the first washing), and wander through strangely shaped aisles of racks upon racks of gaudy-colored shirts that somebody thought were a good idea. There's a cute little sundress, pretty much just like the one you wanted, but no! your size isn't there. Well, try on the neighbor, which is the wrong color but the right size, and wait in line for a teeny fitting room that smells of feet, and of course it fits you on top, but most definitely not on the bottom, so you put it back, because it's what your mom taught you to do because the salesclerks will chatter and roll their eyes at you anyway. So much for looking up-to-date or trendy or... new. You wander over to the clothes that you always wear: nice, safe t-shirts and maybe a nice shirt for work. They mostly fit, and it's fine because the people who will see you in them the most is your stay-at-home-cat, and he doesn't care as long as you scratch him behind the ears for 5.6 minutes before he swats at your hand.

Why anyone actually goes shopping to relax or as a reward is beyond me.

Can someone please explain to me the benefits of such actions?