Pink

Though I have always loved dolls of all sorts, I am in no way a girly-girl.  Most days, I hardly put on anything nicer than yoga pants and a t-shirt, and it is a fancy occasion indeed when I wear make-up.  When I found out we were having a girl, I almost didn't to tell people until after she was born so that she wouldn't end up clothed in pure pink.  I wanted to be entirely gender neutral, empower my daughter to choose her own path, as well as allow my (hypothetical) son to choose his as well.
Newborn Sofia wore lots of colors.  Honest.  Mostly pink.  In varying shades.
Since she could first reach her arms out to choose a toy, Sofia has loved baby dolls.  She couldn't yet stand on her own two feet, but she was rocking and nursing and wrapping in a blanket her baby.
She also loves to play with trains, cars, and dinosaurs.
We live on a farm.  She's seen life from beginning to end, played in her share of dirt, planted, weeded and harvested a garden.
Yet, you can't change biology and social constructs that easily.  She received a pink tutu for her birthday after having to pry one off of her at a toy store.  She has visited Daddy at work, gone to the library, the bank, and the grocery store in that tutu.  She'd wear it to bed if we let her.  I can only coax her out of it if I have her Princess jammies in hand.
We went to the zoo the other day.  We had a great time.  We saw a lion roar, watched a giraffe run up close and personal, counted ducks and waved at a swimming river otter.  She found the camouflaged mountain lion, watched the snow monkeys and climbed on the jungle gym.  At the zoo gift shop on the way out, she found the toy she just had to have, and has been bringing it everywhere with her since.
Meet Sally the Sea Otter.

In technicolor.

The worst part is, I think she's kinda cute.