When I was in elementary school, there was a lot of pressure to pick a favorite color. I knew my hue wasn’t going to be blue or pink, just based off principle. Every boy loved blue and every girl loved pink. It was like, the thing. Girls who thought they were princesses loved purple hues. The really innocent girls loved yellow. The boys who weren’t popular loved green. Where did I fit in? I decided to make the color red mine. After all, I have red hair and my mom drove a red mini van. Strawberries are red and real women could wear red lipstick.
I loved red. I loved the orangey red hue. Speaking of which, quirky girls loved orange. I used to steal the orangey red color out of the crayon box. Rachel Red, I thought of it. My red.
I know what you’re thinking, what kind of kid analyzes things like this? The answer is me. And not just as a kid. Welcome to my brain. Anyway, as an adult I’ve realized I’m not red. I’m a muted collection of hues. I’m mustard yellow and eggshell white and charcoal grey.
What’s your favorite color? Has it always been the same?