Shall we call them "mobile survival kits"?...hhmmm?

I fear I may be past the point of having grown emotionally attached to my handbag though.

It’s understandable of course, I mean this (not so) little pouch houses what could ultimately be considered my entire life…you know?

It’s my pharmacy, my bank, my bathroom, my kitchen, my home affairs…

Harbouring everything from Identity documents to deodorant and even an emergency apple,

(yes I have an apple roaming around in there, my friend Tshire has one too in hers so I don’t feel weird about it, not one bit. You never know when you might be stranded and malnourished, lol)

I’m just always ready like that.

“Ladies why do you need those things? Why can’t you just take what you need in your pockets?”

Ok wait hang on, I’m planning on wearing leggings today, can I use your pockets?

Here… hold my mascara, my eyeliner, my lip balm, my pocket tissues, my sanitary wipes, my phone, my purse, my emergency earrings (yes I did), my hand lotion, my waterless hand wash, my shades, my keys, my pain killers, my panty-liners, my tampons, my intimate wipes, my scent wand, my gum, my comb, my emergency just-enough-to-get-me-from-the-office-to-the-car umbrella (unless of course there are strong winds, then it won’t help me, it’s not strong enough to sustain such. It’s just to protect my hair shame poor thing), these earphones, some of these tollgate-change coins loitering around in here…

Oh and wait…what shall we do with my emergency apple?

*POUT…RAISED EYEBROW*

I didn’t think so *rolls neck*

Without my handbag,

I feel naked and exposed,

I feel insensible,

I feel unprepared,

I feel…I feel…

I feel incomplete man.

There’s something very survivoresque (new word) about my handbag though (note my habitual excessive use of the word “though”…I’m getting help for that)

Something very superwoman (if my life played like in the movies, this would be the part where Beyonce’s “run the world” would be jamming in the back)

Something very “Maybe she’s born with it”

Something very “the devil wears prada”

Something very…

Very…

*slaps tongue*

“everybody calm the fudge down…I’ve got this”

My handbag is my Chuck Norris.

What amazes me is how I got to this girl (by this girl I mean the girl I am now)

I used to be so nonchalant about all this…

Ok maybe not “amazed”, but it’s interesting…

If you ha told me 4 years ago that the first thing I’d save in a fire is a handbag, I would have punched you in the face for talking smack!

(This is of course just an expression I don’t fight)

I believe the term to use is “I have blossomed into a young lady” …so cliché.

It’s strange the contrast between who I am now, and who I was then…

A good kind of strange, but strange none-the-less.

I love this girl I’ve become, she’s so liberal, uninhibited… I like her.

She never leaves the house without her handbag, lol.

(have you ever noticed that the acronym “lol” looks like a person with their hands in the air? Nudge nudge to my girl Fifi)

I’ve just smiled at a part of me… this all inspired by finding life…in a pouch

But my handbag though *claps once*