A dear friend of mine needed a new purse – her old standard was looking ratty and more importantly, it was on the verge of being dreadfully out of fashion. After all, she’d been lugging it around for a good three or four weeks since buying it.
So she took her hippest friend with her to hunt for a new one and ended up with a faux cowhide number. Unfortunately, though, upon returning home after a hard day of shopping, she realized to her chagrin that her stuff didn’t fit into it. So, she was back to the store the next day to snag the larger version. And though it had somewhat less personality than its smaller counterpart, it contained all of her stuff. Even more importantly, as her very stylish friend informed her, big purses are in.
So, now she’s lugging around a purse that’s nearly as large as her 7-year-old son and she’s talking about visiting a chiropractor – her back is starting to ache.
Perhaps a visit to a therapist would be more in order, to find out why she’s lugging around everything from a three-pound jug of hand sanitizer to 16 pairs of designer sunglasses in an assortment of colors. Not to mention a wallet the size of a full-grown squirrel, with credit cards that, when placed end-to-end, would span the length of her favorite shopping mall.
But who am I to talk? I’ve got my own purse issues. I’m still carrying around that little jean purse I bought two years ago at Walmart (I was there getting the deal of a century on tie-dye supplies for my Girl Scout troop, when the purse caught my eye), but I dream of burning the dang thing in a blazing bonfire. I constantly have to forage around for my things inside the 114 or so pockets of my purse and therefore am subject to cursing in front of my impressionable children. Still, I refuse to buy a new one. Jean material goes with everything, after all. Who can beat that?
What’s worse is that I am also subject to hanging up purses on walls, as décor. So, although I may have loved that psychedelic hot pink and lime bargain bought at a nearby flea market, I can’t ever use it. After all, I can’t leave a gaping space in my wall arrangement.
And my kids will eventually learn those bad words anyway.