Until I was in my thirties, I refused to carry a purse. I didnít want to have to worry about misplacing it, like I did with keys until I started designating key drop-off zones throughout the house.

I carried my ID, a credit card and some money in a pocket, and if I didnít have any, such as when I wore a dress, I carried a tiny party purse, even if it was a non-party designation where I was heading.

I didnít want to be burdened, weighed down, responsible for something that could just as well fit in my back pocket.

But three years ago, I was diagnosed with asthma. I had to carry an inhaler, and that wouldnít feel comfortable in my pocket, so I bought a purse from Target on clearance for $14. I bought a wallet (Iíve had several over the years but kept them in my bedroom to store my credit cards, library cards and other number-identifying plastics), also on clearance.

I figured I should throw in, along with my cell phone that previously was attached to my hip via a clip, a 2-ounce lotion bottle, and then a 0.5-ounce hand sanitizer because of the craze about ultra sanitizing away the flu, meningitis and other germs. I realized wouldnít a hair pick be nice, along with extra scrunchies. And then along came the spot cleaner in case of spills (not oil, mind you).

On Jan. 1, I added a daily planner (no Blackberries for me! I still crave pen and paper) and later a mini-notebook in case I had a brilliant idea for a blog.

And this summer, I added a pen-size bottle of insect repellant, which did me in. I picked up my purse and realized it was heavy. How the heck did that happen?

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 1st, 2010 at 9:43 am and is filed under Shelley Widhalm, Writer. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.