Confession time, yet again

I also got new shoes yesterday (no, that's not the confession). I needed new "nice" flipflops, since I got paint all over my old ones, and they were old anyway. I needed new sneakers because for some reason, the mister garbaged my last pair. They were on the front porch, in this rubbermaid box, with various other shoes, and he got a cleaning bug one day, and just chucked most of them. My shoes. He threw away. Including my only pair of sneakers. Shoes that I wore. Yes. He's psycho like that.

Soanyway, I went in search of a nice pair of all black Chuck Taylors. You know the kind, with black rubber, instead of the classic white, and black canvas, black laces. They didn't have thoooose in my size, but they DID have a nice pair of (omg, I am gonna take such shit for this, I know it) black and pink ones. Black shoes, pink tounge, white laces, white rubber, and a pink pinstripe. Soft pink, not hot pink. They're very cool.

I'm coming to terms with pink. We're getting along well, now I think. When I was a kid, I was one of those "pink kids" my bedroom, my clothes, you get the idea. Then when I was about 12, I rebelled, discovered metal, had a Halloween party with my Barbies, tearing their heads off and soaking them in fake blood. I've been pretty much anti-pink since, but I sense it starting to creep back in around the edges. Jelly bracelets. Sneaker trim. Dog collar. I'm ok with it. The first time I buy a pink dish, or pink carpet, or pink clothes, please someone shoot me. I still hate it mostly.