You can usually tell how busy a woman is by the size of the purse she carries daily.
Big ones generally hold everything but the kitchen sink and say, “I’ve got whatever you need. Just reach in ’cause I’ve got lots to do!” Large purses remind me of Mary Poppins and her carpetbag from which she pulled a coat rack among other things to add “homey touches” to her room.
Small purses are usually just enough size to hold a lipstick, an ID, keys, a condom, and maybe a pen. Those purses say, “I’m interested in being cute and am out for a good time! I’m not doing too much right now.” Small ones bring to mind the party girl who needs just enough to get her through the night.
My purse has always provided some illusion that I’m either busy or cute. In high school, my purse was always HUGE and heavy, but filled with nothing of real importance. As I got older the purses gradually became smaller but were stuffed with various things. Things that would lead to the nervous breakdown of myself or someone else if I were not immediately able to extract it from my purse.
Today, I carry a purse that is approximately 5 inches deep and 8 inches in length.


I want my purse to say, “I’m cute and carefree.” when what it really SCREAMS is “I’ve quite possibly got what you need and can answer your questions; and if you ask me to do one more thing, I’ll burst at the seams.”
My life is like my purse. Full, and in appearance, cute. It is my own form of prestidigitation, and like the magician I work hard to make the illusion seem real.
Life-for quite a few of us-is so much more than it appears. It may look easy, yet it is anything but that.
Now, I am faced with the choice to either hang on to the illusion and keep using the purse I have or to reveal the secrets of my magic and get a bigger purse.
Hmmm…what will I do?