5.11.11a
5.11.11c
5.11.11b
5.11.11d

[NOTE: This is a repost. Blogger deleted this original post. Jerk.]

Growing up, I wasn’t a pink kind of girl. Not that it’s bad to be that girl, but it just wasn’t me. I was more tomboy than girly girl. I always felt pressure to pick pink or purple as my favorite color since I was a girl (oh the pressures of 3rd grade) when really my favorite color was red or blue. I would have rather played outside in the dirt, or ride my bike all of the neighborhood instead of staying indoors doing normal things that little girls do. I also never had a sequined cell phone cover that spelled out “baby girl” which on one hand makes me proud and on the other makes me a bit sad.

But at age 26, I can honestly say I’m one of them now. I am a pink kind of girl.

You want me to wear pink pants and a matching necklace? Done. You want me to bedazzle a cell phone cover with only pink sparkles? I’m already on it.

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