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This little mommy stayed home by Samantha Wilde

 

Earrings, cuffs and the marketability of anarchist terrorists,

 

Hyprocriosy, I has it, head aches cold and the common cure.

 

 

I'm leaving all that up there so you can see what 'write about this' blog notes to me look like. They look like Falloutboy song titles and LOL cat/ fail blog article headers. Now you know.

Let's break it down, shall we?

 

This Little Mommy Stayed Home by Samantha Wilde

I was sitting in Barnes and Noble, in an aisle because some other lucky bastards had gotten all the cushy-butt chairs, and this was the book next to me. It had a shiny cover and it was at eye level, okay? So I flipped through it.

This isn't exactly a recommendation but I liked the writers voice.  It's about a new stay at home mother going through lots of changes in her life, and that's about it. Not a thriller, no supernatural stuff. Just a hormonal women ranting at life in general.

If nothing else it was a nice reminder than the mundane can be hilarious.

I wandered out of Barnes and Nobel, had mall sushi and Miso for lunch, and wandered into Hot Topic.

Earrings, cuffs and the marketability of anarchist terrorists,

 

 

They had a permanate sale on earrings there, buy one get one half off. I got black and red starred studs and crescents, and hot pink spirals.

HOT pink..

It's funny. Pink used to be the one color I didn't like. The one I avoided. Pink was 'girly' and soft and barbies and all the other things I wasn't. Pink was a girl color, and I didn't have many girl friends when I was little.

That's not totally accurate. I didn't have many friends period. My little brother had the same issue, but he's growing out of it. Or maybe he's growing into new friends. It's a blurry line. Eventually you find your people, is the important part.

 

Anyway, pink. In middle school my uniform of choice was oversized sweat shirts I could pull my knees up into, jeans, and no makeup. No makeup doesn't sound like much but it was the time when girls started to wear it, and when I did wear it one day, it was a freakish enough occurrence that a lot of people noticed. Not in the good 'you look nice way' but in they 'hey look she's wearing makeup today!' way.

Pink, somehow, became a part of this.  It was weak without benefit,  soft in a rotten slimy way.  It was all the worse bits of being a girl at a time when I was pretty hard pressed to find an upside anywhere.

I don't know when pink changed.  Part of it had to do with art, I'm sure, drawing and coloring, forcing more colors out of fewer pencils, learning Photoshop and embracing the entire spectrum.  Drawing a cast of aggressive female superheroes over and over again with red lips heels wings fire power, reading under the table in case and starting to write by myself, for myself.

Pink changed.

It went from the nausea of Barbie to the violent warning color of a poisonous fish, the hard neon of a warning sign. Predatory.

I like it now, certain shades. There's still a twitch of a knee jerk when I see certain shades, an internal sneer, a mental curled lip that tries to dismiss it.

But I look good in pink. Something I resented for a long time. I have a grand total of one pink shirt. I have one pink necklace. Both were gifts (from the same person). I don't even have pink eye shadow. it's the color I'm missing I have pink lipstick cause red is too charged for most situations, and fuck brown. Seriously. I'm not putting weird chemicals on my face to have brown lips.

I prefer splashes of more aggressive pinks.  Pastels are still somewhat on notice, but I don't like wearing pale colors so that's probably normal.

And yesterday I got pink earrings, acrylic and bright enough too scald if they were any bigger. The day before I bought pink hair dye. I haven't applied it yet, I'm still debating, and I probably won't for a variety of reasons that had less to do with pink than you'd think.

(Note: I'm aware you could probably write a whole introspection about me accepting pink. I'm gonna derail you all now with!)

I also bought a sweat cuff.

I had a leather snap on cuff that I wore on my left wrist.

It had rainbow studs on it. Well, colored studs that made a rainbow.

I wore it every day. In fact, I wore it so regularly that it fell apart on me. The inside cracked and said cracks rubbed my wrists raw.

So it's been retired. My new cuff is just a sweat cuff, with a little red and white akatsuki  cloud on it.

Which triggered a debate from my inner Kisame (the former terrorist turned bartender one, not the pornstar turned bouncer) that went like this-

"Are you seriously going to pay for that?"

"Yes, I am. See how I am laying down money for it?"

"You're... But. That's like paying for a shirt with an anarchist logo on it- which you can buy right over there. What. The. Fuck."

"Yes, we pay for stupid things here."

"That cloud is a symbol of an organization that wanted to steal demons out of children and reshape the entire damn power structure! And you're paying what for it?!"

"Pissed you don't get a cut?"

Don't worry this debate was internal, and I've left out the part where he got a soap box and ranted about politics and commercialism. It's absolutely hilarious to me that the most political character I write is a big blue tank.

 

Hypocrisy, I has it, headaches cold and the common cure.

 

I'm not writing an essay about this (right now, at least) but there's a weird piece of my head that thinks taking medication is somehow cheating.  Like it's my fault that my system can't kick a colds ass all by itself.

But I'll pester anyone else to remember to take their pills.

Yeah I don't know either.

 

 

There is a fat little bird outside in the rain, hopping up and down. Little dude! Go be warm!

 

 

 


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Messypeaches

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