Handbag Hang-up

I am not sure when I acquired a hang-up with handbags.

Hang-up (noun) hang-up (hang-ups)

1.     Continuing anxiety about something

a.     A psychological or emotional problem or fixation about something

2.     Cause of problems

a.     A persistent impediment or source of delay

                                                                         i.      Bureaucratic inefficiency was the main hang-up.

My anxiety about my handbags started when I worked at a department store. I, at the time, called them, “purses”, and had to work hard to start to call them “handbags” as “handbag” was the required term for them at the department store. They called to me, no matter what name you gave them; they had my name on them. Rows and rows of handbags- All sizes-All shapes- All colors. 

The anxiety began when I got my first paycheck and had to decide which one really needed to come home with me. It didn’t matter the size, the extent of what I carried was as follows: lip gloss, keys and money. I was 16 and fabulous without much gear. Size, in this particular case, didn’t matter. 

The next hang-up came when I wanted the next one. 1. How would I justify to my mother that a new handbag was a need and not a want?! (I still lived at home and had to answer to my mother). 2. What would my first handbag think of me cheating on it? The thought did cross my mind. There was nothing wrong with the first one. It wasn’t worn out, it wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t out of style- I was just bored. I wanted excitement, so I decided to cheat and get handbag #2. This dirty little secret of mine continued well into college. 

Then I got married. The handbags were now like big beacons in the night sky…daring my husband to ask me the big question: “Why so many handbags?” Was it that I didn’t trust him to understand that I needed these bags? I was attached? In love? I did my best to hide the handbags, but that became more difficult as I also liked to change my handbags with whatever I was going to wear. There was a constant shuffling through the inventory for just the right one. 

The handbag fixation has continued through several moves (where professional movers had to pack my handbag inventory and more than likely made comments over coffee during their breaks about my obsession) and a divorce. 

While the things I have carried in my handbag have changed over the years (my handbags have also doubled as baby bags, party bags, overnight bags, carry-on bags and so much more), my handbag hang-up has not changed. My affair with my handbags has brought me much joy and pleasure. How could it not?