Yesterday I was looking for something in my bag and couldn’t find it. Why? Because it’s become babyfied. I’m used to having a fair share of crapola in my bag, and extra stuff just in case (like five lipsticks instead of one, because you never know what could happen, and a range of pills and remedies, because G-d forbid someone around me has a headache or nausea and I can’t help them). So while I will take responsibility for my share of handbag fluff and fills, nothing could prepare me for what I found relating to you, alongside all my MAC and stuff. Thank G-d I have big handbags generally, though this could be a problem in itself.
So here it is, my Guess handbag inventory list:
– 1 Fling chip
– 1 empty bottle (the milk-drinking kind)
– 1 clip that once held the packet of Flings closed
– 1 squishy toy that makes a noise when you squeeze it
– 2 used baby wipes
– 1 strawberry stalk (I am sure you put that there)
– 1 credit card, and all my loyalty shopping cards at the bottom (again, sorry to point fingers, but I know you have a fond love of emptying my Hello Kitty wallet)
– Mini windup toy snake
– Half a yoghurt mini rice cake
The thing is, pulling out a baby wipe instead of my business card at a meeting, or finding a half-eaten piece of dried mango instead of my lip shimmer, is a privilege for me, really. It reminds me that I’m more than me and my job – it reminds me that when I get home and put my bag down, there’ll be a five-toothed smile, and the most edible hands in the world waiting for a hug. And that’s a feeling worth bagging.
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