When I was younger, there were two things I thought I defined a grown-up woman – the ability to carry a purse (without misplacing it) and the ability to wear heels all day (and not take them off after an hour to run around barefoot like we did at prom). I am happy to report that I can do both of these things with ease, but I must admit that I feel no more like a grown-up then I did when i was in high school.

I don’t know why – I do grown-up things all the time. I vote, my husband and I pay our mortgage, I talk to my friends about how their child-rearing efforts are working out. I have been financially independent from my family for more than a decade now. I watch the news and I almost always go to bed at a reasonable hour (pre-Leno).

Back to purses. The whole reason I started thinking about this is because I am admiring the new purse my love just gave me. He is excellent at picking out fashionable purses that fit my needs, then working the purchase into the budget because I stopped buying them because it felt too self-indulgent.

I was admiring the purse and I realized I haven’t lost a purse in…well, I can’t remember. I have one fuzzy memory of leaving a purse in a movie theater but I’m nearly certain I realized it by the parking lot and got it back. My purse is a part of me now – I perpetually lean my body to the left to counter balance the weight I carry on my right shoulder (which bears an impressive muscle knot, according to my massage therapist friend). I have gum, an umbrella and a hard drive with me at all times; let me know if you ever need them.

So. I have come to the realization that having a purse does not equal feeling like an adult. I wonder when I will look in the mirror and think, “My my, Sarah, you are really looking like quite an adult.” Maybe it will come the day I get my hair tamed and somehow style it everyday. Maybe it will come when (if?) my acne goes away and my wrinkles set. Maybe it will come when I am a mother. Or a grandmother. I’ll let you know.