My purse has been snatched!
Not in the old tyme-ey sense when a thug with a newsboy cap and a snarl would yank the handbag off the crook of an old lady’s arm and run away while coppers chased behind him waving their batons.
More like the Body Snatchers, where yes, this LOOKS like my purse and FEELS like my purse, but um, yeah. This isn’t my purse, guys!
Here it is from the outside. Totally looks like my handbag of old. Slouchy, worn-in, practical:
But looks are deceiving, because when I recently looked inside, like, analyzed its contents, I came to realize that it is now, officially, a Mama Purse. And guys, I have no idea when it happened.
I must have been living with it for a while, but only fully noticed on Saturday night when I was out to dinner with a friend. She asked if I had an extra hair elastic she could borrow. “Of COURSE I have an extra hair elastic,” I said! I have an insane amount of hair and would never, ever leave home without at least one or two floating around somewhere on my person. So I started digging, first through my pockets and then through my bag. I pulled item after random item out onto the table. Everything that came out brought bursts of laughter, but in the back of my mind, I was thinking, “what the what?? Where are my damn hair elastics??”
Here is what was in there:
In case you can’t see properly (I am not yet WordPress savvy). here is an itemized list:
- my wallet
- scrap paper with an old Hangman game scribbled on it, pen attached
- an old USB key
- an unused contact lens case
- a tin of blush lip Vaseline
so far, everything appears normal….
- a nearly empty container of Cheerios
- 2 baby food squeeze tubes (one half empty. gross.)
- 3 different-sized baby socks, none with their partner
- a pair of baby shoes that have never been worn
- a green rubber duckie
- a small toy truck
- half a package of bamboo wipes, the kind that I HATE and don’t work so Lord knows what they were doing in there in the first place
Not one hair elastic. Not a single. ONE! Actually, that’s not 100% true. I had one in my pocket, but it was a baby one, meant for teeny tiny ponytails, not grown women:
Seeing all these things lined up on the table, it got me thinking about the things that I used to carry in my purse – matchbooks, lip gloss, broken cigarettes, a small tube of Tylenol for creeping hangovers, a tiny notebook to jot down my thoughts or a cute guy’s phone number (sorry, honey!!). And I was in no way wistful about it. But man, as I lived and breathed, back then I never would have thought I’d be here, sifting through BABY STUFF in my PURSE!
Now though? I’m soooOOOOooo glad to not be carrying around a bag full of gross, stale tobacco and the digits of random dudes.
With a smile on my face and a warm feeling in my heart, I carefully put everything back in my purse. I told myself that I would clean it out when I got home…but didn’t. I’m proud to have a Mama Purse, and kinda want to keep everything where it is.
Besides, now I’ll know where to look when I finally find the matches to the socks….