January 4, 2013 7 Comments
Have you ever noticed that as women get older, their purses get bigger?
When I was a teenager I had a wallet. And my mother had this ridiculously large purse. I vowed I would never turn into a “bag lady” like my mother.
Well, I’ve become my mother. I have a huge purse. It could have its own zip code. It can hold pretty much anything: keyboard for my iPad, grooming accessories . . . small children.
No really! Here’s a picture of one of my granddaughters at 3 months. In . . . my purse.
She seemed quite content . . . I’ll have to take her purse shopping someday.
Because my own daughter, who only carries a wallet, won’t go purse shopping with me. She won’t even walk into Kohl’s with me, for fear that I might veer off toward the purse department.
I can’t help it that it takes me hours to find just the right purse. It’s like finding the right man.
I’m a serial monogamist when it comes to purses. Unlike many women who have a purse for every outfit, I’m a one-purse woman. Oh, sure, I have a cheesy little clutch bag for super fancy events—but, I feel so guilty when I go out with the little tart. My faithful purse may be a little worn—the patent leather is cracking on the straps and she’s missing a few rivets–some might even call her an “old bag.”
But, It’s till death-do-us-part. Or, until Kohl’s has a really good sale.
This post has pretty much nothing to do with conversation. I’m working on a short stand-up routine for my Toastmasters club. I’d like to make it a little longer and a little more funny, if you have suggestions.