I am slowly evolving. I feel for the better. I am learning about myself in new ways I never thought I would.
Over the past couple of weeks, I have made some drastic changes. Some within myself, some with my environment, and some that are...well... more aesthetic in nature.
I am not entirely sure where I developed such a surface hatred for the color pink. I adored the movie “Pretty in Pink” when I was in school because I could relate to that lower social structure and being outcast. The preps and the jocks didn’t care for me and I had no love for them.
Maybe I saw the color embraced by the popular crowd that I instantly wanted nothing to do with it.
Maybe I saw the color pink and felt it was too innocent for my depraved soul. It reminded me that I was never innocent. I was wicked and devilish and should always wear black.
It didn’t bother me too much until I was in my 3 year nightmare with the narcissistic dom. He loved making me wear pink. He wanted my hair blonde all the time, and called me “kitten”. He didn’t want me to express myself.
If I had it my way at that time, I would have kept my hair red and avoided pink. My favorite color had always been green; any shade from teal to chartreuse. Blue was second... especially that color the sky gets at twilight. That is my favorite time. (I very nearly went off on a tangent about faeries and twilight... I might blog about the faeries later)
Ahem.... okay.
So. Pink. I can’t help but notice that over the course of many years, I’ve collected a lot of pink clothing. All my sexy panties... they were all pink. (I’ve acquired more panties that aren’t pink)...
I was very overweight for awhile and felt that pink made me look larger. I was very self conscious.
My twatwaffle narcissist would laugh at me in pink or any color really but especially in pink. He’d make me wear clothes that were too small.
The pay off was that he’d always cuddle with me (unless I had done something wrong). He gave me attention, freely and all the time (unless I had done something wrong), and he made me feel like I was the only woman that existed. All that went away if I acted out or had done something wrong.
By “wrong” I mean that I would not spend money on him or pay for items for his business. He’d degrade me and even manipulate my own children into laughing at me if I decided I wanted to save my money.
He didn’t pay for anything. If I needed money to support the household (including him) he’d force me to sign an IOU and give him a check for collateral.
There is so much more I could say about “twatwaffle” and that relationship but I’ve said enough to explain some of my pink aversion. It reminds me of him.
I think over the past several months, I’ve started to let go of a lot. I tried pink on. It was pleasant and I didn’t melt. I didn’t break out into a rash and I actually felt.... cute.
I even dyed my hair blonde; something I swore I’d never do again.
I’m currently in the process of making a full set of dreads that are blonde to pink.
Im embracing it.
Im changing, and I like the changes I’ve made.
Pink is for the better.
