Random fact about me: I don’t use a handbag.
Shameful fact about me: I use a green nylon bumbag instead.
Yes, you read that correctly. Forget about over-sized Mimco totes and over-priced Oroton hobos, this hip little mummy-blogger gets around town with a jaunty little navy-green bumbag strapped around her mid-section.
I’ve got swagger.
I’ve got my green fanny pouch and my two hands free.
Even before I had kids I was never much into fashion or accessories, and along with expensive shoes, all-over foundation, 50 Shades of Grey and hair straighteners, handbag fetishism is a uniquely feminine obsession I’ve never really understood. In many ways, I’m more like a bloke than I am a chick. It’s a bewildering disconnect with my gender.
I was inspired to ponder this topic after seeing a recent post from Emily at Have a Laugh on Me, in which she emptied the contents of her handbag for public consumption in a very funny and self-deprecating post, coming clean with a bewildering list of the random shit she carries around with her. I mean, she’s packing a plastic spoon that doubles as a weapon. Respect.
Above all I am a bare minimalist when it comes to these things, and I like the heady element of danger involved in being under-prepared for almost every eventuality; gleefully eschewing the role of mummy-sherpa and leaving things like baby wipes, emergency toys, snacks, anti-bacterial hand wash, water bottles, nappies, first aid kits and sunscreen behind. It’s not for everyone, I’ll admit that.
Being the eternal optimist, I always envisage that we’ll get by without all that shit anyway, and we generally do. Me, a preschooler and a toddler against the world. Today is NOT going to be the day we have a pooplosion in public. Today is NOT going to be the day we stumble into an unshaded area on an extreme UV day. Today is NOT going to be the day any of us pat a rabid stray cat right before lunching on raw Japanese finger food. And so on.
And look, if we ever got caught in a crisis I figure I’d just make a beeline towards the the nearest woman with the largest number of children hanging off her arms and the bulkiest over-sized handbag hanging over her shoulder. I do have contingency plans, you know. I’m not just stumbling blindly through life here. *coughs*
Contents of ‘Zilla’s Navy Green Bumbag
Here are the only things to be found in my super-streamlined op-shop fanny pack:
Tampons: For emergencies of the female kind. I also figure they make a marvellous multi-purpose piece of first-aid equipment, with the ability to be used as temporary splint for fingers or toes, the perfect plug for a bleeding nose and can be pulled apart and used as makeshift gauze for injuries involving loss of blood and/or other bodily fluids.
Phone: Try not to reel back in abject horror. It’s not a smartphone. Some days it feels like I am the only person in the world over the age of 9 and under the age of 99 who does not have a smart phone. I am literally that ONE person in the entire universe who a) uses her phone for actual phone calls and b) only uses said phone in actual emergencies. And even then, I’d probably try and solve the problem with a tampon first.
Wallet: Another uber-sophisticated op-shop purchase. I was thrifting before Macklemore was a zygote.
Keys: You can tell my life is exceptionally complicated. I have two keys. One for the house. One for the car. Oh, and the all-important stubbie-opener. See what I mean? Bloke.
Lip balm: I like to smear my lips with plum-coloured petrochemical derivatives. What a scintillating post this has turned out to be.
Half a bamboo skewer: The only seemingly random item I carry with me all the time has one simple and very important use. My two year old wears a bone-conducting hearing aid (when he is not being a contrary little toddler-turd) and the only way it can be switched off is to push a teeny-tiny little red button to open the battery case; a teeny-tiny little button that can only be activated using something sharp and pointy.
Me so cool. Me, my old push-button Nokia and my $2 fanny pack from Vinnies. Can anyone top that in the dag-stakes?