Hello, readers of xojane! This is my guest post. This guest post is mine. In brainstorming for this momentous event, my mind went to those "What's In My Bag" things, when editors and models and Sofia Coppola allow us a glimpse into the inner workings of their attention to convenience when taking the subway. For some reason I'm always expecting "What's In My Bag" to become some juicy confessional, with descriptions like, "My will, that body I killed, and a convenient Google Maps of where Amelia Earheart and Biggie Smalls currently reside." Sore disappointment follows when it's just a lot of really pretty makeup and Prada iPhone cases.
That's because bags are boring! Unless you're Allison from The Breakfast Club, your bag is probably just a lot of basics. Why would it be anything else? Mine is no home to goldfish either. For one, by "bag" I mean "pockets." For another, all they usually contain is my phone, some crumbs, and a blue New York Times bag for when I have to walk my dog. (To make this post more extreme/funny, I will tell you what the secret blue bag is for: POOP! Ha-ha! That was exhilarating.)
My locker this year, however, truly was as disgusting and chock-full as everything I wish my pockets and the Birkin of the Harper's Bazaar Accessories Editor were. You know that kid in movies who opens their locker and stuff just falls out and knocks them to the ground? That's me. We got 20 minutes to clean them out in the last week of school and I wasn't even close to finishing by the time our next class started. I had to devote outside time to cleaning out my locker. I walked the halls in the not-yet-dark-because-it's-basically-summer hours of the evening, making long pilgrimages to trash cans and recycling bins. I was hacking away at papers and pencils just to find a path to my coat hook in the bitter half-hours before first period, because no way in hell was I going to go in a whole hour early in the last week of school. I lugged home twice my weight on our very last day instead of hanging out with friends because if not one of the security guards would have…stayed seated in some doorway and given me an eyebrow. Damn! I really should've gone to Five Guys instead.
This is the corner of our dining room my crap has occupied for the past two weeks:
I included my foot for scale, because I guess all the notebooks and gloves and piano wouldn't have given you a good enough idea? OK, you got me, I just really like my foot and wanted to be a show-off.
This is a closeup:
Please note: tap shoes, blue wig (to match my deodorant, of course!), Play-Doh, baseball cards, and a veil. Not pictured: a very questionable Ziploc bag full of some strange half-liquid/half-solid green/brown mush. I wanna say it's from an old lunch but I don't eat healthy stuff. I really should have used that secret blue bag to save it for this guest post, but a teacher made me throw it out after I chased my friend with it and accidentally made her genuinely upset.
Maybe I really am as interesting as I wish I was! I do remember sticking that veil in there just in case I ever had a day where I needed to be Lydia Deetz, which I did have, many times. And that wig was used for some pretty sneaky disguises for some totally rule-abiding escapades. Or maybe I'm just a slob. Yes, I think that's it.