They made me throw my purse in the trash.

It’s taken me a few months to write about this one. A few months to get over being forced to throw my Marc Jacobs black crossbody bag in the trash.

Yes, you heard correct. I threw my purse IN. THE. TRASH.

Here’s the story.

It started as a good day, my 45th birthday no less. We had celebrated New Year’s Eve the night before with our family who was visiting from Oklahoma. We enjoyed a great meal and drank lots of good wine. (Or maybe it was a good meal and lots and lots and lots of great wine. I can’t remember.)

Anyway, we were excited because the Sooners were playing the next day in the Rose Bowl. A National Championship playoff game no less. We were fired up. Our tailgating gear was packed, our beer was ready to be iced, and everyone had their gameday outfits ready to go.

Now part of those outfits included our purses, for the girls anyway. This was a big deal because your purses had to either be see-through/clear or no larger than 5″ by 7″. We pulled out the measuring tape. We were all good to go. (This will be an important bit of information very shorty.)

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We arrived at the Rose Bowl later than expected. Traffic in the L.A. area is always a bitch, but throw in 90,000 fans trying to get into a small area all at the same time and it becomes flat out ridiculous. But our spirits refused to be dampened. We enjoyed our pre-game beverages, took some quick pics, and headed to the stadium.

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The above picture is important because it’s the last time my cute Marc Jacobs crossbody was caught on film. And because we look very cute.

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There are many details that I could include in the telling of this story. Details that include a woman giving me a reason to join the #MeToo movement as she continually pressed her very drunk body to my very sober body and kept whispering in my ear as we waited in the security line with what felt like every single Georgia fan that flew to California for the game. Details that include how my husband had gotten us tickets in the middle of the Georgia section, on the exact opposite side where all of our fans were sitting. Details like how we waited in the security line for over an hour, making us panic that we might miss The Pride of Oklahoma march out onto the field.

(Side note: Sooner fans need no explanation about this, but for the rest of you let me just say that this is a really big deal. And for this Sooner who never gets to see her team play in person anymore, missing the Pride play my alma mater was something I was NOT going to miss.)

Now for the detail you’ve been waiting for. The purse being thrown away.

We finally made it up to the metal detector. Derek and the boys were ahead of me. I slipped my purse over my head, placed it on the table, and started to walk forward just as I heard a woman say,

“Ma’am, your purse is too big. I can’t let you in with it.”

“I’m sorry? No. It’s not too big. I measured it.”

“No, I’m sorry. It doesn’t fit.” She placed my purse on a 5×7 square to show me.

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” My body was starting to get hot and my blood pressure was rising. I’m pretty sure I was having a fight or flight response to the situation.

“You can either go out and put it in our bag check or walk it back to your car.”

I quickly knew those two options were not going to work for me. To go out and put it in the bag check meant that I would have to wait in the line AGAIN that I had just waited an hour in. And our car was a 30-minute walk there and back, PLUS waiting in the hour-long line. I would miss the first half if I took either of those options. And then she said,

“Or you can throw it away.”

“I can’t throw away my purse!” I was laughing. And then I wasn’t laughing when I looked into the trash bin that she was pointing to and saw several purses already inside.

“What if I empty it out and put everything in my pockets and my husband can roll it up and put it in his jacket?”

“No, I’m sorry. We can’t let the bag in the stadium.”

All I could think was, how the HELL did I get the one woman who took her bag checker job REALLY seriously?!?

And then Derek yelled, “I WILL BUY YOU A NEW BAG! LET’S JUST GO!”

My boys looked scared like their mother was about to be taken into some kind of custody for having a purse that was maybe, MAYBE, a fourth of an inch too big.

Derek yelled it again. “I WILL BUY YOU A NEW ONE!”

I looked at the security lady. I looked around at the very impatient fans all around me. I felt like I was about to break at any minute and either start yelling or crying or both.

“Do you want a bag?” I asked her. If I couldn’t have it, fine. But throwing it away, a perfectly nice, beautiful semi-expensive bag was ludicrous. She told me she wasn’t allowed to take it.

I looked at a different security lady. “Do you want a bag?” She told me the same thing as the other lady.

And then I must have blacked out. I don’t remember actually throwing the bag away. All I remember was walking through the metal detector feeling like I was about to start crying. The day had gone to total shit in a matter of minutes and at that moment all I wanted to do was go home. THE WHOLE THING WAS INSANE! I had just thrown a very nice purse INTO THE TRASH.

Most of you know the game didn’t have the outcome that we were hoping for. I wish I could have been a good sport and said something about how I was just glad to be there, but I wasn’t. My day had been ruined. It seems small to let a purse ruin your day, but the whole thing was unsettling. And having to sit surrounded by barking Georgia fans, watching my team lose, holding all of the contents of my purse in my lap wasn’t my idea of a good time.

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You are probably wondering if Derek made good on his promise to buy me a new purse. Yes, he did. I ended up finding a very similar bag on Posh Mark. Since it was a used bag I paid less than what I had bought mine for originally, which should have made me feel better but it didn’t. Eventually, I will get around to carrying the new old bag, but as God as my witness, I will never be forced to throw away another bag again!

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