Datebook: Monday, September 10th ~ 2007

I realized today I am not a practical person.

Oh, I have fooled myself in the past, shopping at Sam’s Club and BJs, bringing home those twelve bottles of bungeed ketchup, 280 ounce cans of baked beans, and a 20 pack of Mennen Speed Stick deodorant for my husband—and then lugged it out to the car and into the house without the benefit of a box or a bag. I’ve cut coupons from the Sunday newspaper and used Entertainment Books for fifty percent off of dinner entrées.

But it has just been a ruse apparently.

My diagnosis of impractically comes on the heels of the fact that for the second time in three weeks I have witnessed someone wearing a “Fanny Pack”. Now I’ll admit the name is misleading. Fanny Packs, if you don’t remember or if you are in denial of ever owning or craving one of these little zippered wonders, were designed to be worn, well, belted around your waist and riding your derriere.

In America, we are not such a trusting nation, so we tugged the catch-alls around to the front to protect our horde and in reality they became “belly packs”. And they were popular for a while among the older citizens who liked to have their hands free to shop, and take photos, and gesture with both hands while talking. But they were never stylish and never fell into easy favor with those who read any fashion magazines.

Oh, they tried. There were genuine leather models and a few designers even put out a line bearing initials, but we as a nation refused to be captivated by these marsupial carriers.

Yet, as I watched these two people in past fortnight walk uninhibited amongst the crowds, not weighed down by a purse strap, or rendered like the quest of The Fugitive, a one-armed man, I felt a certain envy.

To be sure, my own purse weights 18 pounds at the moment: I have a wallet filled with reams of paper that are not green, and enough change that has settled to the bottom to please a whole room of kindergarteners at a Chuck E. Cheese outing. I have a skate screw driver although I think in twelve years it has been used twice. I also have a camera (five years old so it is more the size of a cereal box than a credit card) and of course my Day-Runner planner. Oh, I know they have Blackberries and I-Phones that offer electronic scheduling but I must have my “Month at a Glance” planner and a pencil or I feel like I left home with two different shoes on.

But, do I really need to carry all of that with me, all of the time. Could I not survive with a medium size fanny pack clasped around my waist? Could I not benefit from losing the cutting straps of my shot-put weighted handbag that dents the tops of my shoulders like footprints in the sand? Wouldn’t it be lovely to relax and have the freedom of all arm movement without the fear of said purse jolting from the shoulder position, down the arm, to the crook of the elbow, where all nerve and muscle sensation is magnified like on an episode of “House”?

And the answer is, Yes! Yes it would be great to carry just what I need and not have the burden of the added weigh like an albatross across my clavicle. Yes, it would be fabulous to drink a cup of coffee in one hand, and rub the worn strap mark on my healing shoulder with the other. Yes, it would be fascinating to try to be ambidextrous.

But, I am not practical.

I cannot bring myself to buy or wear a fanny pack. And, I am ashamed. This realization is much like in middle school where I realized I had lied to the overweight boy with glasses who asked me to dance. My foot really did not hurt in those new patent leathers.

And I still feel so 8th grade now, remembering how I limped away then for good measure.

Except now as I walk away from the carefree fanny-packers, I am truly listing to one side as my body tries to counter-balance the weight shift as my Vera Bradley slides down my arm and my elbow snaps like it is landing a marlin.

They would make great competitor gifts though…..

Mombo