Showing posts with label Handbags. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Handbags. Show all posts

Monday 15 February 2016

What's In My Handbag plus Shopping SUCKS

My TITS are in my handbag. That got your attention, didn't it? Okay, not my tits exactly, but my pretty pink Ipod that my brilliant imaginary friends Posski and Randa gave me was christened TITS. Perfect.

This is all leading up to today's confession, which is, most surprisingly:

What is in your handbag right now?

Allow me to tell you:

TITS (aka pink Ipod)
A purse. Sadly one that doesn't contain much cold, hard cash. Sigh
A book.
A tattered Fill-In. They're sort of like a lazy person's crossword, because they give you the answers and you fill them in in the right spots corresponding with each other. 
My adult colouring-in book.
My pencil case with pencils, pens and textas. (See above).
My lip balm. 

Normally I might have a brush, but I don't need those right now. I'm baldy. HAWT.  I now have a small collection of large handbags and a large collection of lovely hats. Awesome. 

That's about it. These items are essential for my long, boring chemo treatments and copious waiting in doctor's waiting rooms for appointments. This is pretty much my life right now.

Nothing much to report there except I had Cycle 3 of chemo last Wednesday and so far it's treating me kindly. Furthermore, I am nearly finished!!! Hallelujah! One more Cycle on the 24th and I'm DONE! 

Of course, then I will get my genetic test results back and find out what the next step is.  I am only very slightly petrified about this. Gulps.

So in order to keep my mind occupied I've been doing some of the afore-mentioned things in my handbag, reading, fill-ins etc. Additionally I've written some very dodgy poems. I won't share all of them with you (you're welcome), but this one made me giggle. I hope you do, too. 

Here goes:

SHOPPING SUCKS: A touching poem 

By Yours Truly

Shopping and cooking are a mystery to me
Yet often I drool over a recipe I see
Optimistically I set off, finding myself here at the shop
Where I frantically search for the list I forgot

It's laying at home, mocking and derisive
For even IT knows I am never decisive
Then I ponder and think, what items did I jot?
Do you think I remember? No! I cannot! 

Do I need coffee? Do I need tea?
What is the difference between camenbert and brie?
I know I need milk, but don't know what kind
We all prefer different types, you will find

The boys prefer THEIR milk to be fully-leaded
But the way that my dodgy cholesterol is headed
I am resigned to the boring old skim
Mickey Blue Eyes? It's 'light' milk for him! 

Of course I'll buy bread, but definitely NO CAKE!
Why? Because we all know I'll eat it, for goodness sake!
Did I need plain or self-raising flour?
I become more annoyed and perplexed by the hour

 I heave my clunky trolley through the brightly lit aisles
Wondering if other folk suffer all these trials
Up aisle one, down aisle two, three and four
My head is aching and my feet are so sore
Coles FM is droning on, I can't take it anymore! 

If I have to endure 'easy listening' for so long
PLEASE at least play a Carpenters song!
Then suddenly, while overwhelmed by choice
I DO blissfully hear that unrecognisable voice

Unperturbed, along I start singing
Impervious to the peeved looks I am bringing
I'm the weird woman who croons as she lingers
For slightly too long near the Birds Eye Fish Fingers

Abruptly I snap out of my Karen reverie
Feeling foolish, all eyes are following me
I must hurry up, get straight back to my task
Finish the shopping , get out of here FAST! 

There are three ravenous boys, all of whom I must feed
Even if they refuse the five serves of veggies they need
It has to be done, so on I endeavour
This is fun! RIGHT. Said no one, EVER!

Then a family reunion is starting to thrive
Conveniently clogging up most of aisle five
How will ever get out of here alive?
But I must keep going, so onwards I strive

Alas, it seems that even this isn't enough
It's just not my day. I must have no luck!
I spot some one I know, there in full sight!
An introvert's awkward and most irksome plight

I stop in dismay, watching like a hawk
Petrified I'll be cornered into difficult small talk
But when I turn to make my escape
Again I have made the most ghastly mistake

What else can go wrong? Yes, I know, I know! 
But it's torture for me in the confectionery row!
Mars Bars seem to tease me before my very eyes
As if they too know they would head straight to my thighs

Then ALL the chocolates join in and chant their evil chorus
Buy us! Eat us! Buy us! Eat us, Ness! You know you just adore us!
I'm forced to flee from the lane of all things yummy
The last thing I need is a bigger, rounder tummy

Leaving the chocolate's taunting refrain
I then reach the aisle of my ultimate shame
Yes, for me cleaning products cause genuine pain
Gumption, Ajax, mops and Pledge-Grab-Its
Remind me of all of my slovenly habits

These items will transform me into a Domestic Goddess!
Just buy us! We're brilliant! They insincerely promise.
Besides I'm aware that all you need is bleach
But how do you stand the smell, I will beg and beseech? 

Weary and bewildered, I randomly fill my trolley
A very impractical and most unwitting folly
I have had quite enough, I just can't pretend
It's time to bring this shopping thing limping to it's end

I trudge to the front in order to pay
But why is there only one cashier open today?
Once in line, the cashier is quite chatty
The endless yakking instead of packing is driving me batty

Then of course comes the inevitable price check
Isn't this all just a big pain in the neck?
Eventually my load is all finally scanned through
Then comes the terrible thing I must do

I reach for my purse and feel my hand quiver
As I hand over copious cash, a kidney, a liver
Arriving home, I unpack my all my food
And briefly relax my jittery mood

I'm pleased and relieved I've completed my feat
Then the boys arrive home and with these words they greet:

MUM, THERE'S NOTHING HERE TO EAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!






Do you enjoy shopping?

What's in your handbag right now?