The Secret Lives of Women’s Purses

My first purse was a quilted patchwork beauty handcrafted in Grade 9 Home-Ec. It still houses sweet sixteen birthday cards, old love letters, and a vintage diary. Throughout the years, my handbags have ranged in size from a roomy carry-all requiring its own car seat, to an envelope clutch that fits two stamps and a bandaid.

The contents always vary, but at any given time you can find the following random items:

🔹 Enough Robaxacet to render you spineless.

🔹 A coat check tag leading you to believe that somewhere out there is a jacket with abandonment issues.

🔹 ‘Muff on the Move’ sani-wipes.

🔹 Paint colour swatches for a pipe-dream DIY project.

🔹 Enough quarters, nickels, and dimes to be considered a prison sock weapon.

🔹 A tangled web of hair elastics matted with a tri-coloured array of blonde, brunette, and gray.

🔹 A small stack of business cards with no context or memory of their intended purpose.

🔹 Lipstick 💋 Lori – Seven colours, two glosses, and a stain.
Val – One tinted Burt’s Bees balm.

🔹 Mints to mask the maui wowie.

🔹 Poop bags for my dog, but if need be…

🔹 Sunglasses *see mints to mask maui wowie.

🔹 A small flask in case the kid’s Christmas concert is a dud.

🔹 One double-A battery, yet to be determined if it’s dead or alive.

🔹 Three hard candies snatched from a seniors home reception desk.

🔹 A pair of readers for prescriptions, price tags, and poorly lit menus.

🔹 Amelia Earhart and Jimmy Hoffa!

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