Obsession

It’s no secret to anyone who knows me, or who has witnessed the top shelf of my closet, that I am obsessed with bags. Not purses, handbags, or bejeweled clutches, but the sturdier variety. Backpacks, messenger bags, totes.

Every so often, when I begin jonesing for another bag to add to my festering collection, I attempt to reason out why I have this pull to something so utilitarian, generally inexpensive, and unappealing to most in my generation.


So today, when my daughters sought a hint for a gift for my upcoming birthday (a card will suffice from you), and I blurted out, “diaper bag,” I realized additional contemplation is in order. To their credit, my daughters, aware of their mother’s odd tastes, did not offer “huh?” at the answer, just, “we’ll look into it.” Certainly, eyes must’ve been rolled in Boston and Los Angeles, and perhaps a debate if it was time to check out this old gal’s sanity, but no quip or rebuttal came my way via our iPhones.


Would you mind accompanying me on this journey through Bagland? You’ve gotten this far (184 words), surely you can hang in for another few hundred. Perhaps we should begin with why I disdain purses. It can’t be the size (my needs require large interior space), as the current advertisements show leather bags, fastooned with various metals, that could easily hide a marsupial.


No, it’s that those fancy leathers are so very ladylike, and well, I’m not. I dress in blue jeans, t-shirts, and running shoes. You can see how those Italian specimens would appear so out of place on my shoulder. Why I dress as a teenage boy is another matter; too much to investigate for this piece.


Our next question should be why does this barely five-foot woman need a satchel half her size? It’s called Preparedness. You may scoff, but when some disaster prevents me from returning home to gather up supplies, I will have on my person all that is necessary to survive. Water, medicine, pens and notepad, cosmetics (I may dress down, but I still like to look pretty), umbrella, tissues, snacks, bandaids, wipes, and other items you’ll be begging me for. (FYI: I wear my cellular phone in a fanny pack on my person. Just in case I’m separated from aforementioned hefty bag.)


At first, backpacks were my carrier of choice. Monthly, I would select one that would appear to be more perfect than the previous selection. Colors and patterns were the first attraction. Then, specifications, such as outside pocket for a water bottle, outside flap for paperback book, and one more slit for keys and sunglasses. Somehow, I could not stop at just one. But my body did the denying for me. A left shoulder with severe arthritis cried out each time I attempted to disengage from the backpack. Sadly, I relinquished the style and the attending schoolgirl look.


Messenger bags came next. The kind bicyclists sling across their bodies for speeds through the city. With the required outside pockets, this variety lasted for a while until I wearied of opening the flap each time I had to retrieve a wallet or other stuffed-in possession.

Totes are currently doing the job. Check, for the outside requirements; check, for the roomy interior; but no check for bag weight or cuteness. My current tote is drab blue and weighs 5 lbs. before anything is even placed inside.

Hence, my idea for a diaper bag. Surely, they all have the outside pocket -- think water bottle instead of milk, paperback for diapers, keys for pacifers. And the fabric: washable lightweight nylon. The designs: pinks, blues, yellows.


And think of the fun my own grown up babies will have when they start shopping for my gift. “Who’s the lucky mom-to-be?” the salesperson might inquire. Silence at first from the child designated as the purchaser. Then, an embarrassed, “Well, in fact, it’s for my mother.” The salesgirl will nod sympathetically. She’ll likely put a caring arm on my child and say, “I understand. So often, as they age, they revert to infancy.” My daughter, either one -- both actresses -- will stifle laughter and respond with a returning arm pat, “Thanks for understanding.”