What’s your drug of choice?

We all have one.

What is the one thing that makes you feel good?

The thing that fills your whole body with a huge rush of immediate feel good?

The thing you HAVE to have again and again and again in order to keep getting that hit of feeling good?

It could be shoes/bags/make up/wine/eating?

Mine was bags! Designer bags were my porn. I would hunt one out and lust after it like I would die if I didn’t get it.

I pinned all my happiness on me getting this bag.

I knew this bag would be the thing to inject some colour back into my boring, grey life.

I knew that in my lack of self-worth this bag would make people look at me and judge me as ‘someone worthy’ rather than who I saw myself as.

If I had this Mulberry/Burberry/Gucci/Kate Spade/Coach/Aspry/Chloe bag it would mean that I was a better, fuller, classier, richer person for having a bag like this. It would mean that I would instantly become the kind of woman who was worthy of having a bag like this, all of a sudden I became visible in my life of the mundane. It would mean I would feel like my uninteresting, pointless little life was exciting and vibrant, even if just for a short time.

If I had a bag like this, just for one second I would feel like I had a life to match.
FYI, I chose bags because with a bag I didn’t have to endure the cruel lights in the changing rooms and be faced with a disgusting body that I hated. Trying on clothes that look amazing on the bitch mannequin but fucking disastrous on my disgusting body.

When you chose a bag you don’t have to injure the indignity of when the lady waiting at the exit of the changing room asks ‘any good’ and l politely say ‘no’ in a breezy, I’m all cool fashion whilst inside dying of shame thinking ‘she knows that beautiful dress/top/trouser wouldn’t work on this fat ass’. ALL THE SHAME for even taking it to try on in the first place, will I never learn. Order them in and try them all on at home until you find the one (often black) flattering top that you can wear with anything to anywhere.


Now you can go back to hating on yourself without the embarrassment of all that goes before but with a new top that actually doesn’t really light you up but that is incredibly functional.

No, my happy came in bag form, bags are so much more forgiving.

I’ve been known to spend a disgusting amount of money on bags. Like, over-draft, bank loans, credit cards amount of money. The bag comes (usually in a fancy slipper bag) and I smell it, I feel it, I try in on each shoulder, hang it from each forearm and take my time carefully filling it with my bits and bobs vowing that it will never get full of snotty tissues and crumbs (where do the crumbs come from in the bottom of every bag?)
And for a while I feel good. I feel important. I feel visible and I feel how I imagine every other happy girl feels.

But, like any drug, it’s a temporary fix. Another tonne of cash/debt and yet I’m still the sad fucked up me on the inside.

Still hatting on my body, still seeing the world in grey, still having the ever running, self-deprecating war in my head.

The fucking bag didn’t fix it!

I’m still not enough.

Temporary fixes, never fix long term problems.

When we hate on ourselves and wake up every day thinking our life sucks, wishing we were someone/somewhere/something else just to feel something other than the same shit we always do, no bag/shoes/make up/wine/eating will make us become anything other than what we already are, it’ll only a little bit more skint or a little more overweight.

It’s self-sabotage, even if in the moment it feels like self-promotion.

It will highlight time and time again that while these things are nice, they can’t fix YOU.

You can make all the investments you like in the material world but, they won’t change a thing on your internal world it’s a viscous cycle of searching.

Personal growth is the best investment you can make in yourself, full stop. That’s where the feel good is. That’s when your life starts to pop colour without the need for all the other shit. That’s where you’ll feel most alive. That’s where you’ll feel that you are worthy, and funny, and smart, and multifaceted. That’s where the feel good’s at.

My darling, it’s all inside YOU, it’s just waiting for you to stop looking at bags and start seeing it.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love a bag (current lust is a little Liberty number) but unlike before, I don’t HAVE to have it, hell or high water, beg steal or borrow. Instead I know that I can either have it or not, my full life isn’t dependant on it, it’ll just be exactly what it is, a pretty accessory in my already pretty colourful life. Not an investment in happy but instead a reward for having invested in me and a reminder to how far I’ve come.

The biggest high you can ever feel is when you tap into your own natural feel good, when you own it, and wear it like a mother fucking Louis Vuitton.