I bought my first big girl handbag recently. It's from Zara - a big girl brand with big girl price tags. It is charcoal grey, with two types of handles. One is the shortened version, where the bag fits tightly under my armpit. The other is a longer strap that allows me to look like a very chic postman. The main body of the bag is like a black hole into which anything & everything gets sucked. Ordinary laws of physics cease to apply in this realm. Only prayer and superhuman rifling through its depths can help you attain what you seek.
In that sense, my Zara bag pleases me greatly.
Although I bought my Zara bag on sale, the world does not need to know that. It gives me the notion that maybe someday I could dress like big girls too. That maybe one day I will chuck those denims and start wearing razor thin belts around my shirts. Those girls look so pretty and their hair never moves.
Two weeks ago, I got called away to a mountain. I took my Zara bag with me. Then I was told to go into a tunnel. Like a small girl, I took my Zara bag with me. Ten minutes into the tunnel, I slipped in a soft, clay puddle. I grabbed the sides with one hand as the other hand gripped my companion's. My Zara bag slammed against the wall. Charcoal grey met wet clay grey. My Zara bag sighed.
Back in my room I tried valiantly with paper napkins to scrape off some of the dirt. But there were these shiny specks that wouldn't come out. They glistened like diamonds, bits of mica from the rocks. My Zara bag had been bedazzled.
Yesterday, I was walking home from watching the Republic Day Parade. I had seen Sukhois do vertical ascents, a woman, with my name, inside a tank and an 89 yr old war veteran, who marched like a 21 yr old cadet. I had not sung the national anthem in over a decade. I marched home with a swagger, my Zara bag slung around me like those sashes around the Rajputana Rifles boys. Swing, swish, swing, swish. Suddenly I felt a tug on one of the shorter handles. I looked down. It was a little pi dog. He looked like he was in a good mood & wanted to play.
"That's what a Zara bag is for, right?" he asked.
"Bad dog!" I chastised.
He was gnawing expertly on the strap now, "What kind of girl buys a Zara bag and doesn't play with it?" he said.
"Man, you're a judgemental dog!"
"Well, you know...life is short. Especially for dogs. I'm gonna get my kicks before this whole shithouse goes up in flames..."
"Wow...that's that famous line from..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah lady. You gonna play with me or what?"
My Zara bag sighed. Really, what choice did I have?
In that sense, my Zara bag pleases me greatly.
Although I bought my Zara bag on sale, the world does not need to know that. It gives me the notion that maybe someday I could dress like big girls too. That maybe one day I will chuck those denims and start wearing razor thin belts around my shirts. Those girls look so pretty and their hair never moves.
Two weeks ago, I got called away to a mountain. I took my Zara bag with me. Then I was told to go into a tunnel. Like a small girl, I took my Zara bag with me. Ten minutes into the tunnel, I slipped in a soft, clay puddle. I grabbed the sides with one hand as the other hand gripped my companion's. My Zara bag slammed against the wall. Charcoal grey met wet clay grey. My Zara bag sighed.
Back in my room I tried valiantly with paper napkins to scrape off some of the dirt. But there were these shiny specks that wouldn't come out. They glistened like diamonds, bits of mica from the rocks. My Zara bag had been bedazzled.
Yesterday, I was walking home from watching the Republic Day Parade. I had seen Sukhois do vertical ascents, a woman, with my name, inside a tank and an 89 yr old war veteran, who marched like a 21 yr old cadet. I had not sung the national anthem in over a decade. I marched home with a swagger, my Zara bag slung around me like those sashes around the Rajputana Rifles boys. Swing, swish, swing, swish. Suddenly I felt a tug on one of the shorter handles. I looked down. It was a little pi dog. He looked like he was in a good mood & wanted to play.
"That's what a Zara bag is for, right?" he asked.
"Bad dog!" I chastised.
He was gnawing expertly on the strap now, "What kind of girl buys a Zara bag and doesn't play with it?" he said.
"Man, you're a judgemental dog!"
"Well, you know...life is short. Especially for dogs. I'm gonna get my kicks before this whole shithouse goes up in flames..."
"Wow...that's that famous line from..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah lady. You gonna play with me or what?"
My Zara bag sighed. Really, what choice did I have?
