Bag Lady

You know you're getting old when you become what you used to make fun of.

This has happened to me before. Most notably, the first time I complained about some young sprout playing his music too loud. I said, "He needs to hike that down a couple notches. Ohhhhhhhh, shit." I almost caught myself, but not quite.

I also passed the "pizza at 2am" threshold several years ago. I used to love the fact that if I wanted to eat something spicy, say, jalapeno bites for breakfast, I did so with abandon. That doesn't much happen anymore.

I also notice Rolaids and Soltice are now big items on my shopping list.

Today I hit a new low on the I-Don't-Have-A-Hope-In-Hell-Of-Ever-Being-Cool-Again barometer.

I was sitting in the parking lot of the Wally World, Walmart to most of you. I ran out of cleaning supplies during the Great Water Heater Debacle of 03, and was stocking back up.

I parked the car, put on my gloves, and got out my handbag. And I sat there for a few minutes, dumbfounded at how I became that lady that waddles through the Walmart with a big, 47-pound handbag containing everything she owns. I don't know how it happened, but it has indeed taken place.

Now, you must know that for the first 25 or so years of my life, I never carried a pocketbook of any type. I carried my drivers license and cash in pockets, and that was it. (I wish I had a dollar for every time I washed my drivers license in the laundry.) Then as I got older and wanted to carry a few more things, I started carrying small, discreet bags. And that continued forever.

Well, or so I thought. Since the weather turned I seem to not be able to get shut of this one handbag I'm carrying. It's not hugely huge, it's what you might call mid-sized, it's not a shoulder bag, it has handles (yep, just like your mamaw's), and is some sort of vinylish all-weather stuff. And although it's not a hugely huge bag, it holds shitloads.

I'm currently carrying things around with me I'd normally never have. Fingernail polish. A comb. Over the weekend I found a clothespin in there. I have about 14 ink pens and $14.77 in change at the bottom. I have prescription bottles. Ones I don't even use anymore. I found an empty snack-sized crumpled up Frito bag. I don't even remember eating Fritos in the last few months. I have wrapped straws from fast-food places. I've got mail, folded up pieces of paper I've printed off the computer at work, and about 25 bank envelopes. All empty, of course.

But here's the kicker. I'm carrying around with me, in my pocketbook - a pocketbook! Yep, several times in the past couple of weeks I've needed a small shoulder bag for just the essentials - you know, cash, credit cards, license, and maybe a pen and lipstick. So I filled one up and have carried it here and there. But it doesn't hold my checkbook. Or my clothespin, which apparently I can't operate without. So the small shoulder bag has gone into the big vinylish handbag and I'm carrying it all.

I went into the Wally World and purchased my items. The lady put them in my basket and I headed out to the parking lot, in a driving wind and blowing snow. I rolled my basket up the aisle. And down the aisle. And up another aisle. I'd lost my car. It would have been funny had it not been so damn cold, and had I not realized less than an hour earlier that I'd turned into an old uncool waddling bag lady who thinks teenagers are ungrateful louts who play their damn noisy music too loud.

I wanted to sit there in the lot and cry. But I didn't. You know, only babies can get away with that, and even they sometimes get yanked up and spanked. So I soldiered on and found my car two aisles over.

Can a plastic rain bonnet for me be far behind?