The wallet-purse

Mom had a Look on her face when she picked me up at the bus stop after work yesterday. It wasn't guilt, exactly, but I knew something was up. I'd seen that expression before.

"I bought you something," she said as I got into the car. Immediately I thought of a conversation we'd had the evening before in which she criticized the size of my wallet bulging in the pocket of my shorts.

"Is it a new wallet?"

"No." She concentrated hard on the road. I sensed I'd hit close to the mark.

"It's not a purse, is it?" I watched her carefully. I will not lower myself to carrying around a purse. It's so much more practical (and fun) to cram things into your pockets and criticize the near-useless "girl pockets" that are so much smaller (and shallower) than the pockets of guys' pants.

"Nope." She grinned. I had a distressing thought.

"Did you get me a fanny pack?"

Now she laughed. "Hmm. I didn't think about that."

I laughed too, but inside I was relieved. A fanny pack would be more annoying than a purse - maybe even more humbling (read: humiliating).

When we got home, she showed me what she had bought. A small bag, sort of like a camera case in appearance, basically a purse but with too many little nooks and crannies for me to resist. As soon as I'd cleaned out my wallet into the little bag, Mom picked up my wallet, said in a solemn voice, "You have served Jessica well," and threw it away.

I christened my new Thing a wallet-purse, because you have to carry it around like a purse but it's too small to warrant full purse status.

I still carry my phone in my pants pocket. Mostly.