Has Pink Gone Too Far?

I read this article the other day about women and fishing and I have to share it and discuss because I find it too interesting pass up. The Fishin'Chix have been promoting a line of pink fishing rods, pink fishing boots, etc. to encourage women to take on the sport. Its an interesting concept. Now before I get started, I want to say that I think it would be great for more women to participate in outdoor sports and I'd like to give a "shout out" to the whole idea.... but PINK fishing rods? Call me a little cynical and perhaps butch, but what the hell? As at outdoor sportswoman, I'm a little grossed out.

If you are a woman and you've ever needed outdoor gear (such as good waterproof hiking boots, rubber boots, gloves, etc.), you know its sometimes difficult to find these things in ladies sizes. In the last few years, there has been a movement towards adding clothing and shoe lines for women and I'm very excited about this, but I've also noticed that they make women's sized items - often - in "women's" colors. For example, the last time I went to buy new boots for work I found a selection of 4 boots for women compared to 37 for men. The brand that I wanted, the ones with the steel toe and real gore-tex had one style for women and the boot was, I swear God, Smurf blue. It was so hideous, I nearly wrote a letter to the boot company asking them what the hell they were thinking. I imagined walking into the office the next day (where I work with middle aged somewhat good ole boy men), sporting Smurfett boots. I ended up buying the men's version of the boot - in brown. The same is true for gloves. I went to Walmart the other night to buy some gloves for work and the women's leather gloves came in pink, blue, purple, and green. Then there was the set of coveralls that my lovely male office mates bought me a few years back. They came in women's sizes and they were even brown - but they had boob pleats. As if a woman who wears coveralls is going to feel inadequate about her breasts. Who is the marketing rep in these companies? Am I wrong?

Now it may be different with fishing. There are a lot of hot fishermen out there and I would probably not wear my dirty t-shirt and ripped jeans out on the river - just in case I need help from the cute fishermen next to me when I pull in a 18 pound catfish :). But how much respect would this guy have for me if it looks like I stole Barbie's tackle box?

I'm not saying that pink is bad. I own a lot of pink clothes (including dresses, frilly tops, and a fabulous pair of Steve Madden heels with pink bows) and I like to be girly and sexy. I guess I just think there is a time and a place for these things. I realize I'm overreacting to this article. I'm just trying to fight for equality in women's field gear! So to the companies out there... go ahead and make your purple rubber boots with lipstick pockets and cell phone holders or shiny blue shovels for "women gardening," but for God's sake, please take the damn pleats out of perfectly good coveralls!!

Thats all I'm sayin...

My Irrational Fear

I have a severe case of Arachnophobia. And by severe case, I don't mean I'm one of those girls who just thinks spiders are gross. I mean that I am absolutely terrified of the species. I am sharing this irrational fear because I have, just now, killed a spider in my home that was as big as my fist. Okay, so it wasn't that big. But it was atleast the size of a half dollar. Perhaps maybe even as big as a poker chip. It was ginormas and it was in my house trying to kill me. It had made it as far as the entertainment center where, luckily, the dog intercepted it.

I was sitting at my computer when I heard a noise that sounded like dog claw on wood - which is not a pretty sound to someone who still owes money on their furniture. But I have to give the dog credit in this case, she was attempting to save my life. My heart started pumping, my chest started compressing. I made a shrieking sound. I grabbed the nearest shoe and pounded the ground until the bloody thing lay crumpled in a wad. I have no sympathy for them. I have my space, they have theirs. PETA will just have to get over it.

I have two explanations for my irrational fear. My first experience where I can remember being terrified by a spider was when I was about 12-13 years old. In these amazing woods in our neighborhood, my friends and I would pretend to be characters from Star Wars Return of the Jedi fighting the evil droids on the moon of Endor (the woods looked exactly like the Ewok village and I'm once again sharing some insight into my geeky childhood). I remember being high up in a tree when a spider the size of a donut ran across the tree trunk at my eye level. The bloody thing was so big I could hear its joints creak. So what did I do? The girly thing - I fell right out of the tree.

My second spider horror was when I was around the same age, maybe a little older. I was staying in a cabin in the mountains with my grandmother and aunts. We were sitting out on the screened porch playing cards late one night when I noticed a spider above our heads. It wasn't a great big spider - about average size - maybe as big as a cert. I'm keeping an eye on this thing as I didn't trust it being right above us. As I watched, I noticed it had a sack of babies attached. The spider is moving around this sack doing something and I started watching it obsessively. I start commenting to my aunts about the situation - not getting much response. Next thing I know, this sack opens and 8 billion baby spiders start falling out of the sky. Its raining f*%@@@g spiders on my head. I point this out to my aunts, in a not so calm tone, and they laugh it off like I'm the biggest wuse. Call me crazy, but who wants baby spiders in their hair? Eventually we all get up as the little nasties come down to the ground. Some of them died. I killed as many as I could while no one was watching, but many lived on to pass on their progeny and terrify more arachnophobes like myself.

The Package

So I arrived at my desk this morning and found a box waiting in my chair. Expecting a huge stack of reports from one of my contractors - I picked it up to toss it to the side of my cubicle with all the other reports and noticed the box weighed no more then a half a pound. The outside of the box indicated that the package indeed came from the contractor. Curious as to what it could be, I quickly opened it up to find one used, slightly stretched, stained white t-shirt.

Turns out the post-office somehow managed to damage the package and lose the reports. As a consolation prize - someone apparently took off their dirty t-shirt and sent it to me to comfort my loss. I've never seen anything so completely random in my life. Somewhere someone is opening up a package, expecting to find their favorite nasty shirt and will, instead, receive a stack of somewhat confidential and intensely boring archaeological survey reports.