But let’s say I actually go to some fancy event. I have no idea what I would wear and even less of an idea of what to do with my hair, but obviously, I’m taking the purse. I make my entrance and am escorted to my table to take my place among the other luminaries.

I smile graciously, gracefully take my seat and my bag, which I am not used to carrying and have therefore forgotten to close, spills open and out pours my Mickey Mouse wallet, Kleenex-some fresh, some half-used, random pens, receipts, some change, part of a protein bar, an old grocery list, a great many random cards, a very important piece of paper that I’ve been turning the house upside down looking for, and half of a very gooey cookie that has left its mark on many of the items and also on the cuff of the gentleman who is helping me gather all of these valuables.

What has not fallen out of the purse is the expensive makeup that is supposed to be there, or the gorgeous emerald necklace I once tried on and then about fainted on the counter when I was told the price ($85,000). Any spell of charm I may have managed to briefly cast over the dinner party is gone. Even if they noticed the purse, they’ll now assume it’s a fake.

I’m sure my mom, now living in heaven, is disappointed in me. She was great at purses. Everything, and I mean everything was always handy in her purse. She had tissues and breath mints (Certs) of course. Also, a respectable pharmacy to cover any ailment.

She was a seamstress, so naturally she could fix anything from a swim suit to a wedding dress from her purse. If I’d had to do a report about Egypt, I would’ve asked Mom for ideas, and she would’ve pulled out an authentic scarab, some real mummy wrappings, a travel guide and some baklava, “They eat baklava there, don’t they? Well for sure they eat honey, so you’d better take this.”

One day I was somewhere with my daughter. She asked me if I had a breath mint. I did not. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like such a failure in my life. 

I just can’t do it. I simply cannot carry a purse. I think the only reason I even tried was because my wallet was too big to carry in my pocket (assuming I even had one, women’s clothes being what they are).

A purse is problematic for me because I tend to leave bags, papers, the food I just had boxed up and alas, purses behind wherever I go. The downside, besides the immediate inconvenience, is that once every ten years or so, the purse gets stolen.

On the upside, I have the freedom to be careless with the bonus of generally being able to think well of the world because people on the whole, are overwhelmingly honest and kind as is evidenced by the number of them who have returned my things. It’s not a terrible system.

But now, I have a better solution. I’ve given up. That Mickey Mouse wallet that I mentioned earlier? That’s no joke. I have several lovely purses hanging empty in my bedroom.

In my pocket is the flat, cheap Mickey Mouse wallet such as any seven-year-old would be proud to carry. This has my driver’s license, a credit card, two insurance cards and that’s all.

True, the policeman gave me an odd look when he pulled me over for speeding and I took out my wallet. Cashiers at fancier stores also look at me strangely on the rare instances I go, or maybe the odd look is for the outfit I picked out, I don’t know, but I don’t mind.

I’m free and that’s what counts.

Anneli Byrd is an academic adviser in Weber State University’s General Studies and Exploratory advising.