I was at after school tennis the other day when someone asked me if I had a tissue or baby wipe on me. As I dutifully waded through my handbag (or purse for those of you Stateside) – and I really mean waded through – some underwear flew out of the bag. Yeah…joke all you want. Anyway, that evening I remembered how they say you can tell a lot about a woman’s mind by what’s in her handbag. Or is it what a woman’s house looks like from the state of her handbag? Either way, I’m so screwed. Now, I don’t hold a doctorate in Forensic Object Analysis (don’t scoff…that is a real qualification you can gain at the University of Prabulousness) but I reckon I can figure out what my handbag contents signify all by my clever little self:
One chocolate bun thingy: No idea why there’s just the one. I have three kids. It could well be a fight to the death between them, all over a chocolate bun thingy, I reckon.
Open bag of mini Dutch waffles: Not sure which day I put them in there. Not sure which week either to be honest. Not even sure that a load of syrupy glucose mess is the best form of nourishment before their after-school sports activity.
Sparkly pink princess fabric wallet: Coz…when you have two girls there is always something sparkly, pink and princessy in your handbag.
Four bananas: Because I felt guilty over the crappy waffles? No idea why there are four. I have three kids. Clearly I’m struggling with the ratio of food to child thing.
Aforementioned panties (yep they’re still in there): Cheeky K’s…not mine. Because when you have kids, someone’s underwear always seems to end up in your bag. You need to have kids to get this (although one of my friends who does have kids didn’t get it…mental note to self…unfriend her immediately).
Travel draughts/chess: Erm, I may suddenly get the urge to play a game while running my morning errands?
The belt to one of Cheeky K’s cardigans: Because apparently we don’t possess a wardrobe to keep her belts and knickers in judging by what’s turning up in this bag. (Don’t look at me. I told you this is what happens when you have kids. I swear, stuff just ends up in your bag and most of it isn’t even yours.)
Antibiotic ointment: Because Dreamy D had a wart removed from his finger a while ago, an ‘event’ that will remain etched in my memory and quite possibly the memory of everyone in the waiting room outside because the screaming was like nothing else on earth. And let’s face it, why would I put the ointment in the first aid box that has a dedicated storage place in our bathroom when I can carry it around with me. Huh? HUH?
Prescription for said ointment: Because it needs to stay in my bag another three months so that it finally so crumpled and illegible that there will be no point filing it away. At which point, I will then file it away.
Tampons: Oh Sweet Pea you’re shocked? You must be new here! I don’t exactly do muffin recipes on this blog. But hey, they’re in a chic pink and black tin so it’s not that bad. There are also several loose ones rolling around but don’t worry, they’re individually wrapped. I believe this more than adequately describes my feminine hygiene situation – and has more than adequately just lost me a few readers. Oops. To all you men who say my site gives you an insight into a woman’s mind, I’m SO sorry. (And yet glad to be of service.)
That concludes the toilet humour part of the programme, folks. Blush.
Bush Naturals Organic face cream: Because I take skincare seriously (translation, I’m too rushed to apply it before the leaving the house in the morning).
My Klean Kanteen stainless steel water bottle: I said goodbye to buying endless small plastic water bottles years ago, for environmental/health/cost reasons (yep…I can do serious too ya know) and this thing really is one of my most prized possessions. Go figure.
A grocery list from…last September? What is there to say? It’s just wrong.
Pure Republic Pukka Skincare brochure: Which I’ll eventually get round to reading once my skin is too aged to be rescued by any form of skincare or when the company that makes it has shut down.
Hello Kitty mini notepad: Coz…girls…again.
Cyclone hair wax: Kind of ironic considering I’m the woman who n-e-v-e-r uses hair products. But then, these days my hair looks like an actual cyclone hit it. In the bag it stays.
Neals Yard Hydrating Facial Mist: Who knew I had this many toiletries/cosmetics in my bag? Now all I need is shower gel and shampoo and I could actually get ready inside my bag (it’s big enough).
So many supermarket receipts that my wallet won’t shut: Well you never know when you’ll get the urge to check what you paid for 641 grammes of carrots back in April 2013, now do you?
Business card of the pest control man: In case I need him to come round and spray my kids. I mean bugs.
Cable for my Mac plus USB stick: No laptop…just the cable and the USB, you understand…
Socks: Mine… Why? Or more accurately WHY?
Tangle Teezer hair brush: logical enough, especially considering previous cyclone comment.
The label from a cereal bar – just the label: Obviously waste bins don’t exist.
Usual suspects of house keys, car key, phone, make up bag etc: Praise be! It’s a miracle I actually have these on my person…ask anyone who knows me.
Sunglasses: Because I may leave the house without my keys or wallet or brain on an alarmingly regular basis (read Ten Signs of the Scatty Mama or I Don’t Know How She Does It to see what I mean) but I will NEVER leave the house without my sunglasses, you hear me?
Remote control to Hubster’s office garage: Man I hope he doesn’t read this post…was meant to put the damned thing back in the car after a near disaster recently.
What does it all mean?
1 That if they do a remake of Mary Poppins, they should pay me for the use of my bag for that scene.
2 The only thing I have a doctorate in is how to fit the maximum amount of crap into it.
3 I’m apparently terrified of having messy hair, dry skin or someone going hungry.
4 When I’m suffering from writer’s block and need inspiration for a blog post, I can just look inside my bag.
5 If we ever run out of storage space at home between the laundry room, the closet, the storage room, the office and everyone’s wardrobes, there is nothing to worry about (see point 1).
Told you I was clever.
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