Entry 40: The Louis Vuitton Gym Bag

There’s this lady at the gym that I see all the time waiting for her yoga class. She’s probably in her late twenties or early thirties, a mom – and everyday I see her, she has strapped around her shoulder a Louis Vuitton gym bag.

This intrigues me. Having never owned a Louis Vuitton bag in my life, whenever I see her, I constantly find myself wondering what it must be like to prep for the gym and decide, Hey I’m going to use this expensive ass bag for all my gym stuff.

How do you even decide to get one in the first place? Deciding to get a Louis Vuitton is one thing,  it’s another thing to get one specifically for the gym. I imagine that at some point, said lady decided she needed a gym bag, decided she specifically needed a designer gym bag and while shopping must have been like no, I don’t want a Gucci gym bag.  I want a Louis Vuitton one. No, not that one. The bigger one.  

Or maybe she has 10 Louis Vuitton bags and the bag she was using was one she bought 5 years ago. Since it was so 5 years ago, of course she was going to use it as a gym bag.

But I kind of get it; material possessions often are looked as reflections of our social status. As our society emphasizes the need to succeed,  there exists this secret (or maybe not so secret)  competition to be at the top in the hierarchy of life, with the bigger, more expensive stuff acting as measures of our value and success.

So, if one’s going to be boss with a Louis Vuitton bag, why not be one with a Louis Vuitton gym bag? Just because… that’s even more boss than just having a regular bag.

My current gym bag is a Adidas sackpack from TJ Maxx that I got for $10. Its not boss at all. What it says about me is I bought this bag to carry my shit while I work out, and it was cheap. I don’t carry it with me all the time though; most times I have my wallet and my phone, and I stick it in my sports bra, right in the area between a boob and the armpit.

(I can see your head tilt and brows furrow as your trying to visualize sticking a phone/wallet in your bra if you’re a girl…or if you’re a dude, visualizing a girl sticking a phone/wallet in her bra. Thats kinda weird, you’re probably saying. And it kinda is, but thats how I roll.)

If I do happen to get designer stuff, someone please call me out if I become one of those stuck up chicks who’s like, is that from the Gap? Gross. Those females do exist. I know because one time I was talking to this co-worker, and was admiring her watch:

Me: Is that Michael Kors?

Coworker: Oh no… its Chanel sweetheart.

Well shit I thought. Excuuuuse me. 

She gave me a look that told me she wouldn’t be caught dead in a Michael Kors anything; she was better than a Michael Kors, and thus was cooler than me.

Yea, I don’t want to be that person, so call me out.

Anyways, that’s all for now. I hope everyone has a great week, and if you have one of them designer bags that cost a couple regular people paychecks, I hope you’ll still be friends with people like me who shop at TJ Max and Target.

(Note: I first wrote this whole post spelling Louis wrong and had to correct. God forbid someone reads this and is like…. Hey, you spelt “Louis” wrong.  I wasnt high cultured enough to know, but now I know. )

Until next time.. ..

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Entry 40: The Louis Vuitton Gym Bag

Entry 37 : What’s Your Story?

Have you ever been asked the question What’s your story?

My immediate reaction is always like : What do you mean what’s my story? I don’t really …have one. Whats YOUR story. Then based on their answer, I answer the question.

To be quite honest, I don’t think my life is all that exciting so I’m never quite sure how to answer. When you think of stories / movies, they usually consist of a plot – sometimes with twists, turns, and an apex to the plot  – and my life has none of that. Its just, ordinary. To me its awesome, but ordinary. I mean, I cleaned my spare bathroom yesterday. This happens once a week. And then after that I folded laundry.  And then I grilled hot dogs for dinner.

If you want to go into the depth of my character, well – some might find my interests boring. I like to read, get lost in Michaels, word puzzles and regular puzzles, and binge watching The Great British Baking Show. I got into a Games of Thrones debate with the produce guy at the grocery store the other day. I hear any sort of Game of Thrones reference and my ears just perk up. He was talking to the other produce guy about the battle scene from last season and I just joined in like  I know right!?!  That was friggin crazy!

Some people think my personality weird. In high school, when I first started dating my high school boyfriend, this girl asked him Why are you dating her? She’s weird. At the time, it kind of hurt my feelings, but then I was like, wait a minute – she’s right. I am kind of weird; not in the bad socially-awkward way, just in the- I used to humm while i brushed my teeth -kind of way (true story. i dont do it anymore though, i swear…. ) and some people find that weird. I used to hope that girl who called me weird was losing in life, but I’ve gotten over it and have come to embrace the “weirdness” as part of why I’m awesome

Back to my story. This makes me realize how grateful I am not to be dating, just so I don’t have to answer that question. The very thought gives me anxiety. I would probably be rejected by waves if I was like I like puzzles, but it’s something I would say because it’s true.

I’m glad my husband didn’t think I was too weird on our first date. After we ate, I started making a sculpture with tortilla chips and poured water over it, saying its called art, you wouldn’t understand. I’d like to think he was just like Yea, shes a little weird, but super hot so I’ll let it pass. 😊

Anyways, until next time….

Entry 37 : What’s Your Story?

Entry 34: Prepping for Desert Heat

I’ve been in the desert for about a year, and have been getting compliments on the tan that I’ve acquired.

What can I say? In being graced by sun majority of the year, my Filipino was bound to come out. I don’t know for sure if that’s why I don’t ever burn and just tan nicely, but it’s the only logical reason I can think of.

Not to say that I have never gotten sunburned ever

There was one time I burned really bad: Husband and I had gone to Hawaii and I got super dark because he gave me tanning oil, instead of sun-protection. I fell asleep under the sun and woke up 3 hours later so burnt, it hurt to shower for weeks. Even the locals’ eyes filled with pity as they saw me teetering around the shops in my burnt skin. That’s when you know it’s bad, when the locals feel bad for you.

I learned my lesson (tanning oil is not a replacement for SPF), and since then have not gotten sunburned, but I’m still not excited for the inevitable surge of heat during the coming months. As I’m writing this, my memory is getting flashbacks to last summer, when it got over 100 degrees and just walking a quarter of a mile became the longest walk ever.

It’s the kind of heat that makes it suck to even breathe, where even wearing nothing doesn’t help. Where the only thing that helps is sitting in an air-conditioned place and doing nothing but eating something cold, like icecream, or popsicles, or frozen grapes, with the tv on and the remote within reach.

If only every day I had an excuse for doing just that.

Until next time….

 

Entry 34: Prepping for Desert Heat