As a millennial, I’ve read my fair share of stereotypes about my generation.

Most researchers define millennials as those who were born between the years 1980 and 1996, and let me tell you, we’ve been blamed for just about everything. We’ve been called lazy, narcissistic, handout-hungry entitled children, credited with such things as killing the napkin industry and bars of soap. Yes, that’s just as ridiculous as it sounds.

We’re not all selfie stick-wielding, Apple Watch-wearing maniacs, but one thing the “Me” generation has laid claim to needs to end – the color millennial pink.

Millennial pink, or blush, as it’s been known for centuries, is the stuff of Instagram-fueled nightmares. The term was first introduced by New York Magazine, and now it’s everywhere. People are painting their bathroom ceilings with it. They’re wearing it. One girl even bought some all-natural vegan-friendly hair dye and put it all over her dog. Imagine, poor Scruffy running around looking like the hipster mascot for Pepto-Bismol.

The madness must end.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the color blush. It’s one of my wedding colors, and a staple in my springtime wardrobe. However, Bridezilla will take out the first person who says I’m having a millennial pink wedding. No one has time for that nonsense.  

Some say it’s a direct link to the millennial’s affection for childhood nostalgia, like unicorns, candy and cartoons, or an aversion to the markers of adulthood, like having a desk job or filing taxes. I can see these points, as many millennials are in a transitive period in their lives and aren’t acclimating to adulthood as well as they’d hoped.

Surrounding themselves with a comforting color might be a mood-booster or a distraction from reality. That’s fine, but in no way does it give them a right to lay claim to an entire color on behalf of the rest of their generation.

The only comparison that comes to mind is, the concept of millennial pink is this generation’s equivalent of those garish avocado countertops of the 1970s. Avocado green was just fine when regulated to a shag carpet or your second cousin LouAnn’s caftan, but plastering it across an entire room, where people have to eat, begs the question, why? Also, who hurt you?

It doesn’t look like we’ll be getting a break from this scourge any time soon. A quick online search of the phrase will result in a slough of articles explaining what it is, why it won’t go away, and why you should embrace it.

I, on the other hand, am content to huddle in the corner waiting for people to move on to the next craze, whether it’s “Gen X Beige” or “Baby Boomer Blue.”

The only thing worse than millennial pink is someone who refuses to accept the truth – it’s just blush.