Once upon a time, back in the mid 1980's I wished for a Coach Purse. Truthfully, I wanted many such Coach Purses. Like our ancestors once dangled fur pelts from their waist, I longed for enough purses that I could consolidate all the multi-colored Coach tags onto one bag. One bag of status. They would match, and yet clash, perfectly with the stripey Benetton sweater and Esprit jeans I fantasized I would be wearing. And of course all would be complimented by the Add-A-Pearl necklace I had my eye on.
The reality was Lemon-Fizz jeans from K-Mart, with a big embroidered lemon on my ass. A hand me down purse from my mom with exploded Bic stains at the bottom. And an Avon necklace that made my neck turn green whenever I wore it.
And here I am today wearing my Target jeans, my clearance rack tee shirt and a necklace made of blue string and a pink, plastic, turtle bead my son made for me as a birthday present. And while I would be lying if I didn't admit that a winning lottery ticket would bring a tear of joy to my eye and sigh of relief from our overworked checking account. I'm ok with what I have. I'm actually more than ok. I'm pretty damn happy.
I have had a good and adventurous life. I jumped many a fence to trespass into wealthy neighbor's hot tubs, saw John Taylor of Duran Duran live in concert, bartended in England at age 17, backpacked through Europe at 21, got to be part of the dot com boom (no idea what happened to all that money), and met my birth mother before she passed away. My husband is a man that I respect the hell out of, love and adore. My kids are joyful, bright and I don't seem to have messed them up too badly.
And I did it all without a Coach Purse, stripey Benetton sweater, Esprit jeans or an Add-A-Pearl necklace. Not too shabby.