burnt toast life

  • home
  • about
  • the story of burnt toast
  • the timeline
  • contact

Jan 27

my fancy bag

Jan 27

A million years ago (actually 7), I worked for a luxury handbag company. Maybe you’ve heard of them? They’re called Coach.

I’m slightly ashamed to admit that while I was there I succumbed to peer pressure, big time. I bought a whole lot of overpriced bags and shoes and gloves and keychains and leather accessories. I justified it with the popular, “but everyone else is doing it!” Also, I argued to my inner self, I worked really hard and deserved nice stuff.

It was all a big fat lie.

One thing about being a Coach employee is that it’s simply not good enough to buy the standard, off-the-shelf bags. Oh, no. Look closely and you’ll notice that certain obsessive customers and employees always go for the “Limited Edition, Special Release” bags, which cost more than double the price and have irresistible features such as snakeskin trim and price tags as high as a typical mortgage payment. It’s disgusting.

I’ll tell you that the discount at Coach is very, very generous, especially compared to other retail stores. But when you’re purchasing $1,000 bags on a regular basis, even a large discount isn’t enough to dull the hit your bank account will suffer.

While I was employed at Coach I was also in college with a $40,000/year tuition bill. I lived with my parents, so I wasn’t paying rent or utilities, but I still only worked part time for close to minimum wage (no, not commission) and spent all my money on aforementioned leather goods as well as clothes from nearby stores in the mall. Also, gourmet popcorn every night, because why the hell not. Despite my mounting debt, I somehow talked myself into a $750 travel bag (I rarely travel), a $300 wallet, (seriously?), $200 sunglasses (um, yeah…), and the piece de resistance – a $900 fancy work bag. For my future fancy work life.

Now, a few things. I fell deeply in love with the bag and I do believe that investing in quality over quantity is always a better option. And while it would probably take me many, many years to spend $900 on cheap imitation handbags, I think if I had purchased the bag and loved the hell out of it and used it every day for the past seven years then maybe, just MAYBE I could justify the cost. Possibly.

But as it stands I purchased the bag for my someday-life, which brings me to the point of this whole post.

When I bought it, I did use it occasionally, but my real purpose/justification was in using it one day when I was a career gal with a high-paying job and a corner office. I’m not sure why any of this featured in my daydreams since I’m a mediocre, unambitious worker at best who has no desire or drive to climb the corporate ladder. If it was a rare, slightly unappetizing proposition then, now it’s just a wild fantasy/nightmare. I don’t want any of that, and I never did. Even when I bought the bag, I didn’t want any of that. These days? My wallet is my phone case, I don’t even carry a handbag, and my diaper bag is some canvas sack I grabbed off the free table at work. I do not have and will never have a fancy life.

I’ve thought a lot about my past visions for my future vs. eventual realities of how everything actually worked out. I’ve been bitching a lot to my friends and family about how I’m having a midlife crisis. So maybe it’s pre-midlife, but post-quarter life. I’m just having some kind of crisis. I’m feeling very unfulfilled and stuck and I don’t know what to do about it.

This new job I have is really great and probably the best I can do right now in terms of full-time jobs… but. There’s a but. I can’t help but wonder what the Point of It all is. I feel grateful to have a job that pays me, but I feel guilty leaving my kids for the bulk of my day every single day. I know that I’m working to provide for them, and there is so much merit in that, but I’m missing out on their amazing little lives in order to write marketing copy for businesses. We have such a short time on this Earth. Is this really how I’m supposed to be spending mine?

I keep seeking out a sign and coming up empty. I’ve also been trying to formulate exactly what I’d want if this were a perfect world where money were no object and I could do or be anything. What would I be and do?

Here’s what I’ve figured out so far…

  • I wouldn’t be a stay at home mom, at least not 100% of the time. Even after weekends of 24/7 kid time I feel totally drained. I don’t know how full-time SAHMs do it.
  • I would be writing things. Maybe from home, freelance, per-project. But I’d be getting paid.
  • I would take small trips with other adults (husband?) to recharge my batteries and step away from being “just mommy” all the damn time.
  • I would align myself with more people who shared my beliefs. Because right now I’m feeling exhausted and combative with all the negativity against what I believe, which yes, I take personally.

I think the irony to all of this is that I got the fancy, expensive education to advance my career. I got the fancy, expensive bag for that eventual career. But in the end, the only reason I am forced to participate in the career is BECAUSE of the education. Had I skipped college, I wouldn’t have to work full time, because I wouldn’t be paying $1,000+/month for student loans. Not that I could have known that then… but wow. And that’s on me. Obviously. I am not saying anyone but me should have to (literally) pay for this gross miscalculation…however, I do reserve the right to complain about it because venting helps me feel better. I think.

And the whole thing is just silly. Because I learned nothing in college that actually helps me in my current (non-fancy) career, or in any career for that matter. All of my skills either come naturally or through on-the-job training. But of course no one would have hired me without that $100,000 piece of paper. It’s all such a racket.

Well, this is a depressing post, isn’t it? I have no idea what the solution is… all I know at this moment is that I’m (mentally and physically) exhausted, disillusioned, and restless. I feel guilty for complaining but also justified in wanting more, which is tricky. I think about my fancy bag all the time and everything it represents… how naive I was at 24. How reckless I was with money when I should have been cautious. How much I let movies/television/pop culture influence my vision of how life would be when I was an “adult.”

And honestly I would just sell the stupid thing on Poshmark, taking a loss but making a few extra bucks for groceries or diapers or something else disgustingly practical that I need in my unfancy real life, but a part of me is still holding on to the fantasy that maybe, one day, it will make sense for me. I still think it’s pretty.

And because I know you’re curious now…

the bag that launched 1,000 existential crises ()

the bag that launched 1,000 existential crises (source.)

Posted by amanda 2 Comments
Filed Under: miscellany Tagged: existential crisis, fancy, handbag, money

Apr 22

Greetings from the Pregnant Women’s Convention, Grand Cayman edition

Apr 22

I was going to hold off on posting until I got back from vacation. I wanted to just take a break from blogging and infertility and drama for five days. But alas, you cannot take a break from reality, even when you are in paradise.

I could not wait to post because 1) shit is on my mind, 2) it’s a lot of shit, so I don’t want to post it all at once and 3) relaxing vacations offer plenty of spare time to write, write and write some more.

Here I am on Grand Cayman Island, staying at The Ritz-Carlton and trying to enjoy myself. There was one cute baby on the plane. Fine, OK, I dealt with it. But apparently someone forgot to mention that there must be a Pregnant Women’s Convention here at the hotel. Within the first ten minutes of sitting by the pool on the first day, Pregnant Woman #1 waddled her happy pregnant ass over and plopped into the chair right next to me. Awesome. Then Pregnant Woman #2 passed me in the hallway. Today is day two and around Pregnant Woman #6 (in a cute bikini, no less) I’ve stopped counting and just resigned myself to laughing at the absurdity of the whole thing. I would not classify this as a “kid-friendly” hotel by any means. I would not come here for a wild and fun family vacation. But I guess there are a lot of lawyers and hedge fund managers here and the men brought their wives to enjoy the beach while they’re stuck in conferences. Their pregnant wives. Or maybe there’s really a Pregnant Women’s Convention. Frankly, it wouldn’t shock me.

Moral of the story? There’s no escaping your state of mind, even if you leave your state. As frustrating as it was to see those women and the occasional cherubic baby in a stroller, the worst moment so far happened when I casually glanced at Eric in profile and couldn’t help but picture that our babies probably had his facial structure. I don’t know why I thought that and it’s something that could have happened anywhere. It just proves that I’m never safe from my own self-inflicted misery.

I’m making it sound like I’m having a terrible time, but really I’m not. This place is incredible. The water is turquoise and warm, the sand is white, the weather (minus a brief rain shower today) is perfect. My complaints, besides the inundation of pregnant people, are just the food and the prices. I mean, $15 cocktails and $25 salads would be one thing if they were mind-blowing. But honestly? Every single thing I’ve eaten has left me uttering, “I’ve had better,” all while trying hard not to calculate just how much we’ve wasted on dried-out-cheese encrusted nachos.

Tomorrow we’re going snorkeling and swimming with stingrays, two things that are actually worth the money and will hopefully deter the league of pregnant chicks. Tuesday we’re planning to go on a rum distillery tour and a brewery tour, which are things I would not have enjoyed as much if I’d still been knocked up.

As far as existential crises and major life decisions, I’ll save those chats for a later post. Let’s just say I’ve been doing some serious thinking about my life and knowing that I’m a super control freak surrounded by uncontrollable situations, it should make for an interesting next couple of months and even years. I need to make real changes if I want things to change. Simple to say… not so simple to do.

And for now, here’s some sandy toes:

toes

Posted by amanda 8 Comments
Filed Under: IVF, miscarriage, the little things Tagged: existential crisis, Grand Cayman, Pregnancy Convention

hello, my name is deeda


sister, daughter, wife, and mama to 5 sweet children on earth, 4 in heaven. self-conscious writer. voracious reader. sarcasm enthusiast. dependable Taurus. lover of broken things. reluctant adult. FOMO sufferer. drinker of coffee. burner of toast.

get post updates by email

Instagram

…

tweet with toast

My Tweets

Categories

  • all the lists (9)
  • dog things (10)
  • IVF (75)
  • milestones (34)
  • miscarriage (27)
  • miscellany (108)
  • monthly updates (51)
  • parenting mishaps (34)
  • pregnancy (67)
  • the big things (44)
  • the little things (66)
  • Whole30 (4)

search the site

Archives

Theme by 17th Avenue · Powered by WordPress & Genesis