Thursday, February 21, 2008

Dearest Madam:

I am sorry I let you down in some mysterious way. I am sorry that you tired of me and "swapped" me out for a damn Coach. A COACH!!! I. Can't. Believe. It. It wasn't even a special coach (and yes the lower case is definitely on purpose). It is a run of the mill black coach. Nothing special; nothing like me. I am confused and I feel betrayed. I thought you and I connected on a certain level. I thought we could continue to communicate in that unspoken language of love. I mean you even named me Sheila after the glamorous Sheila E. and in honor of the color of my skin. I thought that made me special to you. I guess not because it didn't really stop you from sending me away.......

You have no idea what I've been through and what SHE is doing to me. I mean one minute, I am sitting pretty in the lap of luxury:

and the next minute I am quite literally shoved into the corner of a grungy office in a scrapyard for god's sake. Here. Don't believe me? You don't believe SHE would really do that to me? Well, I have photographic evidence:
This is where SHE "parks" me--right up against that lovely puke green wallboard. What color do you call that? Chartreuse? I call it charpuke. Sheesh, SHE should know I clash with those colors. In fact, I think I clash with the whole environment! And the weight I've put on in just a little over a week? Huge. I long for the old days when the most YOU made me carry was a wallet, a cell phone, your keys and maybe a skein of yarn. What does SHE think I am? A trash hauler? My sides are bulging for God's sake. My shoulder straps are aching and sagging.

Oh we've done a few glamorous things to be sure. I have been in a limo, and I've been out to a few bars. I've been to the spa where I have seen many facials and one too many waxings. You do understand that we are not at the salon to receive services, we are there to provide them. I even witnessed a wrestling match with the women from the WWF. NOT GLAMOROUS! Blood was involved.

I have officially become a working handbag and frankly, I don't like it. Please reconsider and take me back. I promise to be good to you. I long once more to carry a skein of cashmere within me. I'll even settle for carrying plain old merino wool if you would just take me back.



Anonymous said...

Dear Sheila,
You better keep your mouth shut about your discomforts and unreasonable complaints. You have seen more and have done more in the last two weeks with me than your original owner had ever done with you. I didn't hear you complaining last wednesday when you met that GUCCI model did I? I suggest you stay tight lipped from now on or there will be no more fun outtings for you. I have no problem bringing a Juicy Couture or "plain old coach" to meet Italian GUCCI models.
P.S.- The GARBAGE that is stuffed inside of you is known as MAKEUP, and if you continue to complain I may start carrying cheap sh*t just to piss you off.


Anonymous said...

I noticed that you didn't "offer" to send me home. You just plan on punishment by maybelline. How exciting for me.


Anonymous said...

Send you home? I don't think so. Not after all the attention and compliments I get when I carry you. Sorry lady, your in for the long haul. . . lucky for you though you are more of a "winter" color, so maybe, just maybe you will be back to your mummy and cashmere by Spring. No promises though.