this guy just called me “Mira” and told me that my lipstick was smearing. he was right about half of that. i got a new lipstick today, on the recommendation of a barista i chatted with at length while getting a parking ticket (more on that later). it tastes faintly of watermelon, and it’s already smearing. that tells me everything.
i got this purse for my birthday. well, really my dad got if for me. well, really i pulled the Orange County brat move i am half-entitled to once a year and emailed my dad a link to it as a birthday gift “suggestion.” this kind of thing makes it easier on business-dads the world over. the point is, i got this new handbag. and you know how that goes, right? if you don’t, i’ll tell you:
New Handbag, New Life.
there’s probably a Last Psychiatrist essay on this flimsy yet seductive fallacy of consumerism, but who cares? the point is, if you’re a girl, you understand. i got this new bag for my birthday (guess what, it’s black!), and it was like, New Year’s Resolution time (i don’t give a fuck about New Year’s Resolutions, and i never make them. i make resolutions when i get new purses. BEHOLD MY GLORY I AM ALL WOMAN).
anyway, i was all—to myself, because nobody else was there or listening—i was like:
Baby, this Purse is Gonna Be Different.
no candy wrappers, no delinquent parking tickets, no tangled headphones, no handful of decrepit lipsticks in various shades of red will haunt its insides interminably. this purse will be well-organized and clean and free of the discards and detritus that have sullied and besmirched all purses prior. this purse signifies a turning point not only in my adulthood, but in my womanhood in general. god save this sexy structured fake leather vessel, in all it’s endeavors. this is my solemn oath, before a tribunal of my peers, the internet, etc., amen, et. al.
this purse and all that it symbolized, was really important to me.
for about 5 minutes.
those 5 minutes began with the most noble intentions. i rapidly unpacked my old bag (a black canvas H&M crossbody sold to me by my former roommate in a pile of clothes costing $15), dumped out all the old trash, consolidated all the useful stuff into functional zippered pockets…and then stuffed some birthday cards in there. surely this was not a bad sign. i just, you know, needed to temporarily store some birthday cards. a few days went by and nothing big happened, just the accumulation of a few red lipsticks (but i swear they are all different!). so far so good, right? totally.
then i did something really stupid. my fella had given me a treat from the bakery he works at, some kind of delicious chocolate-coconut vegan treat. he had already warned me it was partially smashed. it had been sitting in my car for a while and i needed to transfer it to my fridge. i had a bunch of other shit to carry up the stairs to my house, so i did what any idiot woman would do: i stuck it in my purse. i thought for the short journey to up the stairs to the kitchen, it would be fine. SO WRONG! by the time i got to the top stair i realized my error, before even seeing the contents of the package spilling its guts into the insides of my brand. new. pretty expensive. handbag.