An interviewer sat next to Ms. Pink, eagerly waiting to hear everything that she had to say. Ms. Pink, a fashionista, about five feet, six inches tall, had a sculpted figure and flawless fair skin that glowed with a pink hue. She was seated on a pink velveteen couch wearing her signature style pink dress with matching fashion accessories. She flashed a million-dollar smile and seemed very happy. The whole world wanted to know the story of her life. Ms. Pink was synonymous with the color pink and owned the successful brand “Pink town”. Her obsession and passion for color had helped her achieve great heights in the fashion industry. Ms. Pink began narrating her life story…
“Mom, Dad! I can’t go to this school anymore because I am not allowed to wear my favorite color, pink. The uniform is blue. I will go to school only if they allow me to wear pink.”
I remember telling this to my parents when I was just seven.
Little did my parents know that I was serious about it. They tried to persuade me but it was all in vain. They were forced to shift me to a school where they would let me wear whatever I wanted.
Well! The thing is, it did not just stop with what I chose to wear. Before I proceed any further, let me introduce myself. My name is Priscilla, Priscilla Cooper but I prefer being called Ms. Pink. I am thirty-five years old and I am obsessed with the color Pink. And, let me make it clear- I don’t have a disorder, I was not abused as a child, and I did not have a troubled childhood. But yet, people around me always question me repeatedly and assume I have a sad story that led me to become obsessed with the color. And that is what is driving me crazy. Let me tell you, I am a perfectly happy woman who has nothing to complain about. I have all the luxuries in life. What more could I possibly want? You all must be wondering how my obsession started. Well! Here is the story.
It was one evening in winter when I was seven years old. I was watching my favorite princess movie along with my mom and dad. As far as I can remember, that was the only day we sat together as a family to watch a movie. My father had ordered pizza, my mother had baked a cake. We were one happy family that day. That evening is still etched in my memory. In the movie, the princess was wearing a pink gown. She looked so beautiful. I asked my parents for a similar gown. My parents were always ready to satisfy all my demands. And, they bought me a pink gown the very next day. I loved it. I used to spend several hours admiring myself in front of the mirror. Wearing that pink gown always made me happy. Maybe because I associated the pink gown with that happy evening that we spent together as a family.
Soon I got shoes, a tiara, and a bracelet- all in pink to match my gown. I used to wear the gown when I went out to play, to the market, to the park – to every place where I possibly could. Soon, people began recognizing me. They started associating the color pink with me. They used to call me “The Girl in Pink”. That gave me a sense of pride. So, the color could make me popular, after all, I thought. However, in school, I had to wear my uniform. In the beginning, I did not find that a problem. But slowly as I gained popularity, I realized I had to work more towards sustaining the popularity. Wearing a uniform to school would mean being away from my favorite color for almost eight hours. I did not like it. So I rebelled, threw a tantrum. That was it. My parents shifted me to a school where I was not required to wear a uniform.
I realized I could have things my way. My parents never questioned my choices. Besides, my obsession with the color did not seem to affect them in any way. I always wore pink-colored clothes to school. My shoes, bag, water bottle, pencil pouch, and everything that I possessed was pink in color. As I grew a little older, I even dyed my hair pink. Everyone in school began calling me “Pink”- and that was exactly what I had wanted. I did have a lot of friends in school in the beginning. My favorite foods were strawberry ice cream, pink cotton candy – all food items that were pink. In the beginning, many didn’t have a problem with that. But slowly as days passed, most of them thought my tastes were weird. I could not tolerate their attitude towards me. I wondered how my obsession for a color was causing them a problem. Over time, the ones who used to be my friends began staying away from me. They didn’t seem to like me anymore. I was not part of their so-called groups.
Oh! I was not bothered about it. I still retained the title “Pink”. Nobody could ever take that title away from me. I was satisfied with that. My parents – they were always busy. They didn’t have much time to discuss my day at school, my friends, my academics, or anything that was going on with my life. But I would not blame them for that either. They were hard-working people, millionaires who had a lot of things going on with their life. They always made sure all my demands were met. They even arranged for a housekeeper who ensured that the house was clean and food was cooked.
And Oh! I forgot to tell you something. I even got my room painted pink. My table, chair, bed, dresser, draperies- everything was color coordinated with matching shades of pink. If there was one thing in the world that gave me solace – it was pink. I felt as though I was in a haven when surrounded by pink. Everything seemed fresh, happy and so… me. I didn’t need anyone to like me, did I? I was always popular in a way. I got all the attention. They were in awe of all the things that I could flaunt. All that I can remember regarding my school days are all the pink things I possessed. It was always me, myself, and my pink world. I can’t recall any of my friends, you see.
And do you know? For the high school prom, I wore a pink gown that was embellished with Swarovski crystals. Everyone’s eyes were on my dress. My blonde hair that was dyed pink looked perfect. I was alone but that was because no one dared to match their attire with mine, nor were they good enough to compete with me. Ain’t that, right? The world is always filled with jealous people who envy us a lot. That was exactly what was happening to me. I had a feeling that the girls tried to stay away because they could not afford to dress like me. And the boys were afraid that I would reject them if they asked me out for a date. They knew how popular, beautiful, and rich I was. Ha ha…
Soon I graduated from High School. It was during then, that my parents split. It came as a rude shock for me. I had always thought of them to be a happy couple. My mom moved to a different city. Anyway, I had to move to a different city to join my undergrad. I took up fashion designing as my course of study. Somehow I had a penchant for fashion and I had a feeling I could carve a niche for myself in that field.
In the first year, I had to share a room with another girl. I told her I would bear all her expenses too if she allowed me to design the room the way I wished. Why would she disagree? She agreed happily. Everything seemed to be working out well but after a point, I couldn’t tolerate her. She started decorating the room in her style in different colors. It was a complete eyesore for me. She seemed to think I was crazy and started advising me that I needed to consult a psychiatrist. She said I had some kind of disorder. I yelled at her. I loved pink and I was devoted to the color. How could she point fingers at me? That was it. I couldn’t stay with her any longer. I preferred staying alone. I rented an apartment close to my college. My millionaire dad didn’t question me and gladly paid for all my expenses. I even got a two-door convertible car that was pink. Now isn’t that exciting?
And if you ever thought I was lonely, you are wrong. I was happy and I didn’t need anybody. I tried catching up with my mom but she was mostly busy and didn’t return my calls. I don’t blame her for that. Poor lady, she must have had a busy time getting settled in the new city, with her new job after the split. My dad- he had a lot of things to take care of too. Besides, I was a grown-up. Why would I have to talk to my parents?
You know what? I got a pet poodle. She was such an adorable pet. I had her fur dyed pink too. Another pink to my list. I loved her. Finally, I had someone to call my own and spend some time with.
Though people considered my choices to be strange, I could make heads turn. Well! That was because people were jealous of me as always. Whenever I walked I could see people gather and talk behind me. I knew that they wished they could be like me. All those years I did not find one person who was attached to any color like me. I was unique indeed.
In the blink of an eye, I finished my undergrad. I wanted to start my line of branded fashion stores. I discussed with my dad about the idea and he signed a huge cheque for me without even wanting to know the details. Now isn’t that awesome? I was one of those destined few, I must say, to have a dad who gave whatever a daughter demanded.
I inaugurated my store –“Pink Town”. All the things I designed- clothes, shoes, jewelry, and other accessories were pink. In the beginning, business was slow but soon it picked up. People fell in love with my designs. My brand gained popularity. I became a hot fashion icon. Slowly I expanded my stores to many different cities- can you believe it? All this time, my parents never spoke to me to find out how I was. But on my birthdays I always received expensive gifts from my dad and mom along with a greeting card and a bouquet. Sweet people- they always took good care of their daughter.
Life moved on. My business flourished. The stars were favoring me all the time. I bought a palatial house in New York. I designed it just the way I wanted. The whole house shimmered in pink. The walls, curtains, fans, light fixtures, appliances, and furniture – everything around me was pink. You know, it calmed me immensely. I felt happy around that color. After all, pink is a happy color.
Then something happened. My pet poodle passed away. I loved her very much but how could I grieve? She was meant to go someday, anyway. I could not let anything upset me. With her gone, it was once again me, myself, and my pink world.
When I turned thirty, I decided to date someone. Of course, someone who would respect my choices and loved me for who I was. It was hard finding someone who would match my taste. I was so special. After several vain attempts, I finally found someone. He was a handsome and rich man, and, he loved blue, just the way I loved pink. For the first time, I had found someone attached to a color- just like me. Everything that he possessed was blue. We dated for a while and fell in love too. He wanted me to move in with him, but I refused. I could not imagine staying in a blue house beyond a few hours, so I asked him to move in with me. But he did not want to move into a house that screamed pink. That was quite understandable. We both made a cute couple though. We were followed by the paparazzi whenever we made an appearance together. I had a huge number of followers on Instagram too. People always wanted to know everything about me on a day-to-day basis. I had great fun posting my pictures every day. I still do. My followers began growing exponentially.
Everything was going on well. My boyfriend said he wanted a baby with me. That sounded cool at first. But I didn’t realize we would have disagreements because of that. He was fine with a son or a daughter. But I wanted only a daughter. I could flaunt pink dresses for my baby shower. And I wished to have those awesome pink-themed photo shoots with my baby bump. But he thought I had become too obsessed. He started calling me crazy since I said I couldn’t imagine giving birth to a baby boy. He started arguing and fighting with me. Once, under the pretext of taking me out for lunch, he took me to a psychiatrist. He thought I needed medical intervention to cure my obsession. I wasn’t a mentally disturbed person, was I? I was upset by his behavior. Finally, I called our relationship off. That was it. I couldn’t stay with him any longer. I decided I didn’t need anybody in this world. Me, myself, my pink world– that was more than sufficient to keep me happy as always.
So, that’s my life story. Always follow your passion and dreams without paying heed to what others say. You are sure to succeed and lead a happy life. I hope my story was interesting. It must have cleared the air for most of you out there. I know a lot of my followers would have had a great time listening to it. Sending my pink love and kisses to everyone.
The video shoot ended. The interviewer thanked Ms. Pink for having agreed to share her life story. Ms. Pink gave her a 360-degree tour of her villa before she left.
It was dinner time. Ms. Pink sat at her dining table alone and enjoyed her dinner. She had pink noodles, creamed beetroot soup, a serving of strawberry ice cream for dessert, and went to bed. As she lay staring at the ceiling with eyes wide open, tears trickled down her cheek. And her quivering lips started mumbling unstoppably…
“Am I obsessed? Do I have a disorder? No, No- nothing is wrong with me. Mom and Dad are busy. My poodle is dead. My boyfriend thinks I’m a lunatic. I don’t need him. I have everything- all the luxuries. I lead a lavish lifestyle. Everyone is jealous of me. I don’t need friends. I have my pink. My pink makes me happy. Yes! My pink makes me happy so I should not feel sad. It is always going to be- Me, myself, and my pink world…”
Once again she suppressed her loneliness, insecurities and caged them in the deepest corners of her heart, wiped her tears, and fell asleep as silent screams echoed within her tormented mind.
Note: There are people who are obsessed with certain colors but the above story is purely a work of fiction.
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