Just to warn y'all, this isn't a deep post. Not that I"m known for them, it's just that I wanted to warn you that if you're looking for a deep insight into interstitial-ism or whatever, you're not going to find it here.

Naw, I'm gonna talk about CLOTHES.

So, as with many girls, when I was young I loved pink. Now, my pink period was short-lived -- probably never got into the double-digits age-wise, though lavender did. In fact, I was so in love with lavender that I had many pairs of lavender pants. So many pair of lavender pants that the mean popular girls in junior high made fun of me for supposedly wearing the same pair of lavender pants to school several days in a row when they were NOT the same pair! They were just the same color!

Not that I'm, you know, still bitter about that incident or anything.

Anyway, after junior high I was pretty much over purple/ lavender as a clothing color option. It just seemed so . . . cheesy. (I think it was the pants incident.) It was only a year or so ago I made up with lavender. I bought one top. It looked nice, mixed well with much my numerous blue, green and rust/ dark red items of clothing. Soon afterwards, I purchased a lavender patterned skirt that the top looked nice with.

Then I lost the top.

So, bought another, then another. No pants though. I think I may never wear another pair of lavender pants again.

But, this is about pink. So, for some reason, I just couldn't make myself buy pink. It seemed too little girl, I guess, too frilly. I mean, I'm very femme, but somehow the pink stuff just make me sick. Too sweet, fluffy. Wearing pink to me meant giving up power, meant begging folks not to take me as seriously. Pink was weak.

You can see where this is going, right?

Today, I am wearing a pink shirt. It is not a bright, candy pink, nor is it a hot, shiny pink, nor is it even a fluffy cotton candy pink (though that's the closest of the three). It's a dusty pink, with undertones of lavender, actually. It's the pink of the Maybelline blush your mom used when you were a kid. Sort of. It's the pink that you'd find in the petals of a pink-n-white columbine flower. It is not what I'd call a delicate pink, but neither is it a strong pink. It is, simply, pink.

I love it.

I feel so girly, so pretty in pink. Pink of this shade (of all lighter shades, probably) does just gorgeous things for red hair. I'm also fairly pale, and it goes really well with the pink undertones in my skin. It's a frilly shirt, too, with subtle ruffles along the v-neckline and gathers over the chest, giving it a really nice shape. I'm wearing it under my sapphire blue velour hoodie I recently acquired and over my soft grey velour yoga pants. I am softness embodied, cozy and comfy and warm and pink! I look at the contrast between the deep blue and the almost-delicate pink and I get all gooey.

I know where this color combination comes from -- the boy and girl baby clothes (though the blue really is too deep for that) but I think it also reminds me of the pink-n-blue baby wallpaper of my childhood bedroom (not to mention the chest of drawers with alternating pink and blue drawers I had until it fell apart sometime in my teens). I think Mom wanted to cover her options before I was born, but as a result this color combination is somehow soothing. It comforts me.

Yay pink! Yay blue!

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I'm going for another damn test tonight. None of the first ones they did a few weeks ago came back with any answers, so now we're looking deeper. I am not comforted by the fact that none of my tests came back with anything -- I'm still hurting and it is obvious to me and my doctors that there is something wrong here. But I'm also really afraid of what they'll find and, then, what they'll be able to do, if anything.

Pink and blue. Now that I think about it, it's not nearly as comforting as I'd hoped.