i have this little purse. it was a summer purse i bought one summer ago. but i have used it non-stop/all-seasons since then. i guess it’s my personal version of the hawaiian shirt. i’ve taken it to interviews, happy hours, dog walks, meet and greets, business seminars, blind dates, apartments, pools and doctor’s offices.
like this, except different!
and now its tropical flowers are faded. it smells like malt cooler and dust and it cuts things. i mean when i put things in my purse, they come out ripped, sliced or otherwise deformed. but i still carry it around religiously, lint family and all. it’s part of the family now, housed somewhere between my shoulder and the crook of my arm, depending on how i’m feeling that day.
my point is, i’m so comfortable with my purse that i don’t even bother zipping it up anymore. and i realized this morning that’s just not decent. because two things always stick out of my purse at all times, no matter how i shake it and rearrange it and perform various feng shui spells. a bottle of pills. and a tampon.
now don’t get me wrong. your daily vitamins and leak prevention are above and beyond two of the pillars of success in life. for some reason, whenever someone is having a problem, my first instinct is to offer them a tampon. it seems like THE QUICK FIX of solutions. the other day when my friend fell on the street and was lying in the fetal position, i offered her a tampon. the logic train in my mind runs on a crooked track.
the point is. maybe i should start offering vitamins and/or birth control instead.
naw, shit’s expensive.
i like my purse. but it could use a costco sampling of febreze. the end.
but you’re not a tampon, how can you possibly help?