I’ve seen this tag done so many times and by so many people. It’s kind of interesting to see the difference between the contents of a beauty guru’s handbag and a mother of a two year old, but what I feel is lacking is from the bag contents explanation spectrum is something I can provide. The contents of an unorganised twenty something’s handbag, who is existing through periodic, recurring existential crisis’, who forgets about general make-up up keep, has no finger on the pop culture pulse, is a massive nerd and can claim girl guide and scout on their resume.
*tips bag upside down, shakes and throws somewhere into the oblivion of her bedroom*
My empty purse… oh no wait, I lied. There’s a Nandos receipt stuffed in the pocket. Ah those were the days of money and chicken and freedom.
My phone and it’s stained case from the time I put it in my pocket, along with a pen I had absent mindedly chewed, out of which the ink leaked and dyed my leg, trousers and phone case blue.
A bunch of keys, one of which is probably my house key, but I have no idea what most of them do. They’re tangled up in the many tacky but emotionally meaningful key rings anyway.
My dignity. Nope. Hang on, it might be in the pocket. No. Nope, lost it.
A tissue I used to dry my tears after picking up what I thought was a penny but it turned out to be a chocolate button, and then I realised this is my actual life.
Half a packet of pain killers, haphazardly thrown in the pocket.
A miniature sewing kit, for when Vogue calls.
Lip balm. Vanilla and macadamia. Fancy af, I know.
3 pens that don’t work and a pencil that I don’t think is actually mine.
Half a chocolate bar from when I was on a long arse shift and I only had time to stuff half of it in my mouth before I was needed. The glamour.
…and right down there, at the bottom, there are 372 bobby pins and the shattered remains of my sanity.
And this is why most female’s bags are obnoxiously large and ridiculously heavy.