Women and their purses baffle Mr. Khanna. Nothing to it I say!
We may not have a linebacker’s shoulders but damned if we let that hold us back! A girl needs her bag, her oversized bag damnit.
Not being the most organized, my bags’ insides are often comparable to a war ravaged scene. But I am covered, I am. I have carried the usual suspects, you know, make-up, shades, wallet, keys, gum, IPad, a book. On occasion, maps, camera, sun-screen, bottled-water, an umbrella, flats to change in to, toothbrush, extra pair of tights in case of a snag (TMI you say? Hush!). Tissues too. I may lose them to the depths of my bag but, have them I will. Unknowingly, I seem to also carry a magnet most times. One that immediately attracts my husband’s keys, wallet and what-have-you only to leave his hands free so that he can then gesture enthusiastically while poking fun at my rather big bag. (Let’s just add that and, why men leave the toilet seat up or can’t ask for directions to the list of things we don’t understand about them.)
I am no masochist (except when it comes to high heels) but if I must (and I choose to) carry the weight of the world on my shoulders, I ought to do it fabulously. And if toting what I want on my shoulder means paying an arm (and a leg) for it, then so be it. (The irony isn’t lost on me.) Besides, am positive Céline would make my shoulders hurt less. That’s a clinical study waiting to happen, and am willing to participate.
Pain threshold (and the need to mess with your head) aside, come evening, can you blame us for picking the tiniest bag on hand? Don’t be fooled though, we can still MacGyver anything we need out of it’s contents. Except for maybe a map. Have no use for it, can’t read ‘em anyway.
Oh, the going to the bathroom in packs thing, no big mystery there. We are just giving each other’s (very sore) shoulders a rub. No, it never leads to anything else. Mostly. I’ve said too much already…
Picture Credit: Tina Tang