Certain that a sudden blush of pinkness would be detrimental to my health, I started off cautiously looking for clothes that used pink as an accent color. I found what I was looking for in some trendy new layering T-shirts. These shirts are designed so that two or more colors can be worn at once, with the under layer showing only at the neckline, sleeve ends and lower hem. I chose a puffy, light cotton candy color and quickly covered it with black. The result left me inoffensively pink, although the bottom shirt had a tendency to ride up under the top shirt, thus disappearing all together. Not wanting to be labeled a trend cheater, I set off in search of further pinks.

I next looked to the dark end of the pink spectrum, perhaps thinking I could pass it off as raspberry or some other less girlish sounding color. I found a dynamic cowl-neck tank top. Clingy, dramatic and a little sexy, this was the mature interpretation of pink I hadn't thought possible. I actually almost liked the color on me.

Emboldened, I plunged head-first into the pink family by selecting a hyper-fuchsia tank top with embroidered flower and a multi-trend-embracing raw pork-colored top with both ruching and lace insets. At this point, my circle of friends began to notice. Their feedback ranged from, “wow, you're wearing pink,” to “are you OK? You look a little sick.”

In the wake of my pink-stravaganza, I find that I can wear a great many more varieties of pink than I had thought. Of course, the overwhelming majority of hues still make me look slightly embalmed. I can honestly say I don't think I'll ever buy another pink garment again. Just catching a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror, I had to fight the urge to put myself in a headlock and make me eat an earthworm. Hey, fifth grade is tough. The scars may last for the rest of my life, which is more than can be said for this particular trend.