Love Handles

So I love me my purses. I don't know what it is about a purse that makes me happy. I have never been one to spend serious money on purses, because goodness knows you can drop a grand on a purse without blinking these days. But, I like to change my purse "look" with the seasons and such. I like to think that a nice looking purse makes me a bit more put together.

I used to have these dainty, small clutch-type purses in the old days, and by that I mean grade school. I don't know if that was normal or not. It was a real purse, not a "toy" one, that was brown leather and looked like a tiny baguette. It could fit perhaps some lip gloss, my house key, and some money. I took it anywhere and everywhere, thinking it made me look older and more sophisticated. Not that a seventh grader can do much to look sophisticated, but I tried anyway.

Then I moved on to colorful, bright purses. Fun purses that shouted, "I have nothing that important in here, but at least I match her socks!" Purses that were more fashion accessory than functional. Not that I have that much fashion sense, but having purses that matched my outfits made me think I did.

Then I hit college, and discovered the "mommy" purse. I have had mommy purses long before I ever became a mother, and I loved them. You can carry everything you could ever possibly need in those things! Brushes! Bottles of water! On a few occasions, extra underwear! Besides, I liked having a purse big enough to carry around all my makeup with me, including my dozen tubes of lipsticks. I hate to be limited in my lipstick choices, even when on the road.

Now I choose my purses on how much I think they can hold, but yet not be so large that they cause me to list to one side when carrying it. Also, how well they camouflage dirt. I mean, if you think about it, (as I often do because I am a bit of a germaphobe) your purse is set down on some fairly disgusting surfaces. At least, mine is. On the floor of the restaurant, public bathroom counters, and many other places. My purse now is faux straw with a black bottom, because one time I was stupid enough to fall in love with a bone white leather purse that quickly became a rather disgusting shade of what could kindly be described as beige.

I am getting ready to switch to my fall purse, which has been waiting patiently for about six months when I bought it on sale for half off.

It's dark brown, of course.