Greenest Rouge

She can never decide.

She. Can Never. Decide.

Maroon. Burgundy.

Burgundy. Maroon.

People ask what’s her favorite color, and what does she say?

Maroon-slash-burgundy.

Or, burgundy-slash-Maroon.

She never, ever gives a definitive answer.

Even though, clearly, these are two very different colors.

We….are two very different colors.

Not merely a “dark red”, as some will insultingly refer to me as or try to rob me of my proper label and the powerful energy I bring with my hue—no, my red is deep, rich, and married with a robust hint of chestnut.

Neither red nor brown, I am Maroon, honey.

Maroon.

Maroooooooonnnnn.

Just listen to how sexy that sounds. It makes you wanna just…. Do some things.

Compared to, eh…

Burgundy.

Cue eye roll.

It literally sounds like you’re throwing up. Burg…gundy.

Ugh.

That dull, drab, lifeless, red-purple mess of a color. How could anyone ever dare confuse the two—let alone someone who’s long claimed one as their favorite!??

It’s beyond me!

And yet. She has. She always has. Ever since she was a little girl. And that’s going on 40 years now!!

I mean, it was one thing when she was a child and didn’t know—couldn’t tell—the difference. 

When she couldn’t pick one over the other… When she maybe didn’t want to be mean by picking one over the other, as children will sometimes do…

It might’ve been endearing—even cute—back then…

Well, GROW UP. Because it ain’t cute anymore!!

I mean, you would think… you would really think…she would know the difference by now.

You’d think she would know and be able to recognize the far-, clearly superior choice. The only choice. I don’t even know why they came up with that other one, to be honest.

My rich red--engorged with actual complex character, personality, and intrigue--was all that was needed. Why add any confusion to the mix? Since people really act like they can’t see…

And what’s even crazier to think about—anytime she’s bought clothes in her favorite color, it's always been me she’s been getting it in...

Or for most of her bed linen…

Her favorite stuffed animal in the first grade…

Or her favorite sweater in the fifth.

Her favorite blanket through all those years...

Her one backpack she carried from middle through high school...

Her favorite jacket in college...

At one point, even the color she dyed her late Lab, Lucy!!

It was even one of the two colors of the freaking sorority she pledged.

Not a single one of those instances was any of them, eck… burg…gundy.

They were Maroooon, honey.

Marooooooooonnnn.

Can’t you see the difference?!?

I mean, for crying out loud. Even as she discussed her wedding colors, she still couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Maroon-slash-burgundy…and silver, she’d say whenever asked.

IT’S JUST MAROOOOOONNN!!!!

LADY, YOUR WEDDING COLORS WERE SILVER AND MAROON!!!!

Why confuse and complicate an already-confusing and unnecessarily complicated day?!?!

I mean, Linda. There’s even been times when I’ve seen you try to decide between an item in my color and the same thing but in that other color…

How? Why?!

We don’t even look alike.

We actually look nothing alike.

It’s like not being able to tell the difference between your own children…

When your own children look like Michelle Obama and PeeWee Herman.

We’re as different as oil and water…

Salt and cayenne pepper…

I’m the cayenne in that last analogy, by the way. As if it isn't obvious.

We’re as unalike as the mountains and the sea.

Neither of which that other one deserves to even be part of that analogy, truthfully.

But you get the idea.

As you pour yourself that last cup of tea at night, Linda, what is the color of that mug?

Maroon.

As you wipe that sleep out your eye while scrubbing the bristle against your teeth in the morning, what color is that brush, Linda?

Maroon.

As you cook and then eat your breakfast, and later your lunch and then dinner, what color are those pots, pans, and plates, LINDA?!?

MAROON.

The car you drive. Your socks you love. Your favorite purse. The accent wall in your bedroom. The color of your finger and toe nails for half of every year. Your signature lipstick. Your go-to hair color.

For crying out loud, your favorite boots in the winter and most worn sandals in the summer!!!

Your one tattoo. Your one and only tattoo.

What’s its color, Linda? Huh, Linda?!

I'll tell you what it is.

It’s

MAROON.

Clearly, you sure as hell use me a lot. The least you can do is finally settle on and use my PROPER NAME.

All these years, you’ve chosen me for everything but still haven’t been able to give me my sole credit. How does that make sense? How is that fair?

I mean, do you see me calling you Brenda?

Or Lisa? 

Maybe Donna? Or Cathy?

Do you ever see me confusing you with one of your sisters? Or one of your friends? Or your neighbors?

With one of your coworkers?!

No. Do you wanna know why, Linda? Because I know you.

And I know your name.

Why can’t you know me and use mine? Is that so much to ask?

Why do I have to share a name whenever you’re saying or even choosing your favorite color for things, when you should know which it is at this point!! That it’s me! Mine. Maroon!!

Pfft. Next thing I know, you’ll be calling me crimson.

Or scarlet. Or cherry.

Or berry.

Or yecch—ruby.

What do I have to do to stand out to you — be a primary color? Would that make you happy and make it easier for you, Linda?

Do I need to be a boring, typical primary red? Or maybe blue?

Huh, Linda?!?!?

Would green better suit your fancy? Or, no! No!! How about yellow?!? 

I’m sure you would never confuse yellow with anything.

Do I have to be yellow to get your attention, Linda?!?

Just so you’ll finally recognize who I am and know and say only my name for a change!??!

Maybe I should be grey. Yes! Grey! Or even black. 

I know you definitely wouldn’t be able to mistaken black.

Why, Linda. Why.



Ya’ know what? I feel like somehow, I should be able to sue for this.

Defamation of character, copyright infringement, emotional distress?? I don’t know. Something.

I can hear the judge now… “Oh, you poor, poor deep, rich red, you…” She would empathetically address me during your sentencing. “Exactly how long does the defendant owe you for your horrible, unrelenting pain and suffering?”

“40 -plus years, Your Honor!!!!” I’d eagerly exclaim in my pursuit for justice. “40-plus long, agonizing, traumatizing years…of disrespect, neglect, and abuse.”

Her honor would then bang her gavel, and that’d be it.

Justice finally served.

And ya’ know what hurts the most about all of this? Your loyalty.

Or lack thereof.

As much as I’ve been there for you. As much as I’ve showed up all these years. Been there for you way more than any other color — CERTAINLY way more than…

That other color.

I’ve kept you looking good. Kept you feeling good. 

Helped you have a beautiful wedding. As confusing and unnecessarily complicated as I still find them to be. But nevertheless!

For a wedding, yours was nice. Because of me.

Not because of….bur…

Gundy.

And yet and still, here we are. Here I am, still being disrespected… all of these years later.

That...B word...shouldn’t be able to ride on my coattails for my entire existence like this. And that’s all that it is, as long that’s the case. An existence.

And you've just…. Let it.

So, what are you going to do now, Linda? I can’t keep allowing this for the next 40 years.

And I won't.

For my mental health, wellbeing, and self-respect, and for our relationship to continue, you have to choose.

We both know you should know who to choose.

But you have to say it. It’s me or that other one. You don’t get to keep using me and not properly acknowledging me and only me.

So.

What’s it gonna be???

**********

“Oh yeah, so, I know your 41st is coming up, and I want to get you something,” Linda’s new friend Emily says to her as they meet for coffee one rosy, warm Saturday morning. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Mmmm welll…” Linda ponders for a moment. “To be honest, for a long time, it was maroon-slash-burgundy — haha, whichever you wanna call it. But… For a while now, I’ve actually been getting a lot more into and loving purple…”