I've got this great pair of pink loafers that Mom and I bought about 10 years ago during a sale at Saks, that I've never worn. Every Spring, I take out the shoes at least once, consider wearing them for the day, decide against them, put them away, and save them for the next time I may feel brave enough to put them on. This morning, as I considered which footwear to put on today, I thought, "Pink shirt, cool. I wonder if the pink loafers match." I pulled out the shoes, removed them from the little shoe baggy, and put one on.
Brian entered the room: "Those are pink!"
"What do you think?" I ask. "Are they too pink?"
He takes a moment to consider, and responds, "I like them actually. They're more feminine than the other shoes you wear. You should wear them today."
"I don't know. I do this every year, you know. I never wear them."
"Do it," my spouse asserted. "Don't be a pussy. I DARE you to wear them."
With the gauntlet thrown down in such a way, how could I refuse? How could I preserve my womanhood and status of being the coolest wife in the world WITHOUT wearing the shoes today? Easy answer: I couldn't. (Though I don't always tell him, Brian tends to bring out the best in me sometimes.)
And as I walk around my office today -- as I look down as the classic style; as I appreciate the pink Spring-y-ness of the shoes -- I am happy and at peace with myself.
The pink shoes rule.