My Suburban Incompetence Becomes Glaringly Apparent (Again)

Subtitle: The Devil's Accessory


FADE IN:

INT ELEMENTARY SCHOOL AUDITORIUM

Moms sitting in folding chairs waiting for camp talent show to begin...

Mom from my neighborhood (MFMN) sits between me and an unknown mom (UM).

UM (to MFMN)

OOOOOOH, your purse is so cute!

MFMN

Thanks. I just got it. But it's last years'.

Confused Mom - that would be me - thinks, "Wait? I do not comprehend! Is there some expiration date on pocketbooks ( and does anybody use the term 'pocketbook' anymore?) that I don't know about? Do you have to apologize if you continue to use it past the year it is manufactured? What language are these ladies speaking? HELP!"

Confused Mom scopes out purse from the corner of her eye. It one of those designer prints, with multi-pastel-colored letters or symbols scattered on a light background. CM does not find it cute. CM finds it one of those things other women have convinced each other that they should like because they are status items.

UM & MFMN continue to chat about the purse...MFMN confesses she bought it on eBay (CM gives UM points for knowing how to use the internet, and begins to obsess that someday MFMN and others of her kind will find CM's blog on said internet and come to her house bearing pitchforks and torches. But I digress...)

CM realizes she has no speaking part in this script and places an angry phone call to her agent.

ANYWAY, I actually spent 15 minutes just now trying to figure out exactly what brand of purse it was that was causing all the hoopla so I could put a photo here. But evidently, once such purses reach their expiration date, all evidence of their existence is obliterated from the face of the earth.

All this set-up, just for me to rant (once again)...and (once again) ask the question, "What is wrong with me?!" See, not only do I not give a rodent's heiney about designer purses, I don't even like to carry a purse.

Quick -- someone check me for an errant Y chromosome!

See...somewhere along the line (probably in high school or college) the whole idea of carrying a purse became a symbol of some sort of burden that women are forced to bear --maybe not on the scale of pantyhose, but still an albatross around my neck.

(Although, I just might dig a purse actually shaped like an albatross -- yeah, that would be cool...)

Having a petite frame, a shoulder bag falls off constantly. And any other form of purse just ties up hands better used for...well...anything other than carrying a bag.

For many years, I got by with a wallet jammed into a pocket. Which brings me to another thing to whine about:

Why, oh why, can't women's jackets have pockets on the inside like men's do?

With the exception of my sublimely functional Lands End barn coat (reminder of my temporary preppy affliction of the mid 90's) most women's coats are completely pocket-deprived.

And I'll confess (ashamedly) to have relied heavily on the fanny pack when it first emerged in the early 90's. Feel free to mock me behind my back/fanny.

Pre-children, the only reason I ever carried a handbag was to hide a camera I was trying to sneak into a concert (bad Cyn, bad Cyn...)

But children change everything.

I guess after the indignity of the diaper bag (and the accompanying diaper-changing) carrying a purse doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

So, I've begrudgingly slung one over my shoulder for the past 5 years or so, all the better to carry handiwipes, tissues, and the occasional Ninentdo DS.

But I still resent it.

Now, shoes...that's another matter entirely...

Oh Baby! This is Gucci I could go for.

Anybody want to lend me several hundred dollars? (And maybe a couple thousand more for the ensuing foot surgery?)