Lyda here. AntiM‘s change of blog colors from pink to green has inspired this
rant post. (The green looks very good, Marin!)
As a little girl, I was surrounded by pink. Pink clothes. Pink toys. Pink walls. Fabric with pink cartoon dogs printed on it. (Really. Ask my sister.)
Once I had a say, I vetoed pink from my life. I had nothing pink. I wore nothing pink. In high school, I wore a green dress to the Valentine’s Dance. I fought the Pink Power.
Fast forward to about ten years ago. We were going to a friend’s birthday party. The parent insisted that all this little girl wanted was a doll.
Sigh. I prefer to give building blocks and books and such. But okay. At least I would get her an anatomically correct doll in an tribal costume or something. No blond Barbies dressed in pink fake fur!
I went to the Huge National Chain Toy Store in the mall. I do not recommend this if you do not want go insane and froth at the mouth. I looked around. I did not see any dolls. I asked a young female clerk. She said, “The dolls are in the pink aisle. The girl’s aisle.”
THE GIRL’S AISLE!!!???!!!
What??!!! Are you saying that the building blocks, cars and books, the puppets and model kits and science stuff – everything not in “the pink aisle” – is NOT girl’s stuff??? Are you implying that girls can only have this one pink aisle filled with dolls and tiaras? Are you further implying that boys cannot have dolls or tiaras??
It’s true. I’m not proud of it, but I went off on the clerk. She got both barrels.
I hear she is sitting up and will be taking liquids any day now.*
She may be able to go back to high school some day.
Then there was the time I took my son through the drive-through at McHuge Fast Food Chain. He was four and not yet a Sith Master. I ordered a child’s meal. The young female person on the drive-through asked if it was for a girl or a boy.
I asked why she wanted to know. She said, “Because we have a girl’s toy and a boy’s toy.”
A GIRL’S TOY AND A BOY’S TOY?!?!?!
I may have said a few things to this person as well, purely in the interest of educating her.
Ya’ll, it was not pretty.
And we never went to McNameless again.
Do the math. That’s right. Twelve years.
I am nothing if not stubborn.
Just ask the Resident Sith Master.
One night, I recounted these stories to my wonderful and funny friend, the Irish Beauty, and she shared similar stories of her own. And suddenly, we realized that all the Hideous Pinkness was an evil plot against humankind.
We realized that there are Evil Purveyors** of Hideous Pinkness everywhere, who are trying to fill the lives of girls and women with nasty pale Hideous Pink in an attempt to pacify them and thus take over the world.
We may have been drinking a little bit when we came up with this theory.
Okay, maybe a lot.
Thus was The Hideous Pink Plot uncovered. Thus was the Hideous Pink Resistance Movement born.
Ever since, we have spend a huge amount of time fighting the Hideous Pinkness. We point out hideous examples to each other when we are out shopping.
Across the store. Holding the offending items up and ridiculing them in loud voices. Hey, ya’ll wanna go shopping?
We send each other pictures of hideous examples by email. Like this.
We have been known to purchase cheap and horrendous Hideous Pink geegaws and gift them to each other. And wrap them in pink paper with ugly pink ribbons.
This keeps us, the leaders of the Resistance, strong and firm in purpose. And laughing like maniacs.
Feel free to join us in the Hideous Pink Resistance.
* Footnote: Doncha just love Erma Bombeck?!
** Footnote: I just want ya’ll to know, my mom was not exclusively an evil Purveyor of Pink. I was a very pale, you could even say, colorless child. Hair so blond it was white, skin transparent in its paleness. [To paraphrase, “She’s not white, she’s clear!”] Mom said that when she put my little girl self in my sister’s hand-me-down red dresses, people asked her how long I’d been ill and criticized her for letting me get out of bed. So she dressed me in pink in self-defense.
*** Un-footnote: Uh-oh, I have footnote-itis. Curse you, AntiM!