Purse-aholic

Renae Brumbaugh Green

Hello. My name is Renae, and I am a purse addict. It all started when I was in 6th grade, and my mother bought me a pair of cream-colored kitten heels and a matching clutch purse. The kitten heels seemed fun at first, but the execution of controlling my already-awkward 12-year-old legs to walk on tiny, nail-sized spikes . . . not so fun. I twisted my ankle more than a few times that summer.

 

But the purse? Man, oh man. I could carry some loot in that thing! Mints. Gum. Lip-Quenchers Strawberry Lip Gloss. A variety of pens in every available color, and an ice cream cone-shaped note pad. I could even carry a little keychain with a stuffed koala dangling from the end.

 

So really, it’s my mother’s fault. If she hadn’t bought me that clutch purse at such a young, impressionable age, I might be a different person today.

 

But she did, and I’m not, so all I can do is try to manage the addiction. Which isn’t going very well. Right now, in my closet, I have several dozen purses in every size, shape, and texture. And that’s after I downsized my collection and donated some of them to a local charity.

 

Last week, the burst of fall weather brought with it the need to change purses again. So I climbed on my little closet-stool and pulled down several brown leather purses I hadn’t used since last fall. That’s when the fun really began.

 

See, I have this habit of changing my mind about which purse to carry at the last possible minute, which leads to grabbing another purse, tossing the essentials in, and leaving the rest of my junk in the original purse. Which would be fine if I cleaned out the original as soon as I got home, but no. Of course I don’t do that. The original purse usually sits on a chair in my bedroom for about two weeks. Then it gets moved to the floor of my closet. Then, after tripping over it for another two weeks, I Shaquille O’Neal it to the highest shelf until I’m ready for it again.

 

Which leads me back to the point of my story. When I retrieved those purses from the top of my closet, (and by retrieved, I mean protected my head from the avalanche that occurred when I tugged on the first one,) I discovered a treasure-trove in the midst of the forgotten receipts and gum wrappers I’d stored for the past year. Here’s a list of this year’s booty:

 

1. $20 cash.

2. Four sticks of gum, still in the wrappers.

3. A peppermint, still in the wrapper. (Not the hard kind, but the melt-in-your-mouth, sugary kind. I love those!)

4. Seven tea-bags, still in the wrappers. Among the flavors: Vanilla chai, peppermint, peach-mango, English breakfast and cinnamon. All my favorites.

5. Twelve packets of stevia.

6. Five pencils.

7. Eight pens, all of which still write. Purple, blue, black, and green among them.