I've always been a lover of classic cars. For the longest time I've had my heart set on owning a 1959 Cadillac convertible, pink, with white leather interior. I love this car... the lines, the fins, the bullet tail lights. It just doesn't get any better than this.
I've decided that I am so happy I'm having a boy because I have come to HATE the color pink! I'm pretty disappointed about it too because it really is such a great color. Breast cancer has ruined the color pink for me... and it's everywhere I look. Hey... I didn't want to be a part of this sisterhood of the missing breasts... can I please not have it shoved in my face all the time? For crying out loud, there is a pink breast cancer awareness taxi gallivanting all over the place in Ventura. I can't stand the sight of that stupid taxi. I'm not saying that I don't appreciate the attention focused on breast cancer. Awareness brings in money, money pays for research, research saves lives. I can appreciate all of that. I just don't like the fact that it represents what I'm going through. I don't want to be defined (or even included at all) as a pink ribbon wearing cancer patient. This is not who I am. It's just a small part of my life that happened to take away a little piece of my body.
Don't get me wrong. I look forward to participating in fundraisers and charity events in the future. I'll be happy to paint the town pink if that's what needs to be done to affect even one life. But for me, for now, I will no longer be dreaming of the 1959 pink convertible cadillac with white leather interior because pink is no longer just a pretty color. Now I'll just have to start dreaming of it in black with red interior.