It's a well-known fact that some of us women have love/hate relationships with our purses. The perfectly functional little black pocketbook I carry today may tick me off tomorrow and find itself hanging on the hook in the closet while I've gone on to stuff my stuff in a bigger, roomier tote, only to get frustrated two days later because I can never find anything in there and switch back again.
If only I had the nerve ...
"Did you see what she just did?!"
I don't remember if I poked my better half or not as I whispered in utter disbelief if he'd just witnessed the woman down the way from us at the popcorn counter. Apparently occupied in an intense inner turmoil of deciding if we should buy a box of Goobers or not, he hadn't. He'd missed it.
"She pulled her money out of her bra!" I said, and it must have been the word bra that got his attention because he suddenly forgot his Goobers dilemma and paid attention to me.
"Where? Who?" he asked but I wasn't really listening. I was too intent on watching (but trying hard not to make it look like I was watching) to see if she got any change back and, if so, would she put said change back into her bra.
I was amazed at her brazenness and I started to say out loud that I was amazed at her brassiere-ness but I decided not to because if I have learned anything in the course of my lifetime it is that not everyone appreciates my stupid, sometimes sad, attempt at humor. Brazenness ... brassiereness ... oh, never mind.
It's not like I've never known a woman to carry things around in her bra other than ... well ... you know. I would bet there are women right this very second walking around with a tissue tucked in their bra strap. I even did that once, only to learn the hard way that the tissue can wrangle out without your knowing it, make its way down your body and eventually fall to the floor from the bottom of your dress while you are standing there talking to someone. Not good. Not good either is the childhood memory of the little old lady at church who used to pull wrapped butterscotch candy out of her bra during service. Not good at all.
I have a friend who wholeheartedly admits to carrying things around in her brassiere just for sheer convenience. I have seen her whip out a Kleenex, a band aid and a cell phone. She says she has even been known to keep her car keys in there, but that just sounds painful to me. That is why when I came across an ad recently for a bra with pockets, I immediately sent it to her. I expect her to stop carrying a purse altogether any day now.
"It's a good place to hide things," I was once told, which made sense but didn't really convince me to start hiding things there, especially after the whole tissue falling out incident because I could handle losing a tissue every now and then but I'd be pretty mad if I lost money that way. Apparently the woman at the movie theater didn't have that fear and she wasn't embarrassed to pull her money out of there so quick and easy to pay for her popcorn.
Sigh. If only I had the nerve for such things, maybe I wouldn't have to waste time rummaging around my big purse looking for my cell phone or my keys or my wallet so I can pay for our drinks and popcorn when we go to the movies. And I can't forget the Goobers.
That settles it. Convenience aside, I won't be giving up my purse. Butterscotch might fit, but a box of Goobers ... I don't think so.
Contact columnist Mandy Flynn at email@example.com.