The smaller your purse, the bigger the lady!

I don't remember who told me, maybe grandma, aunt or someone else… but I remember the story. And it starts and ends like this…
The smaller your purse, the bigger the lady!

And I know the horns have already sprouted on the top of your head, but be patient to the end because this statement is not completely unwise.

It was a long time ago when they told me that, known to me as a Sport Billy bag with nothing in it. Everything that normal women carry with them and plus what no normal person carries is an equally cargo ass!

The first time I really thought about this claim was an event in the courthouse. That morning I hurried through my usual hurry, to just "fly in" and certify some paper. I dragged a bag of very incompatible contents with me. Reminiscent of a novice thief who was given the opportunity that morning to randomly steal everything that arrived stig..
In a hurry, I just threw my bag on that lane at the entrance and was overjoyed when I noticed a cleared space three meters away from me at the certification desk. I flew without stuff just to snuck that paper out the window and slam my seal.And that happiness is instantly shattered by the sound of the alarm that raised half the courthouse to its feet.The court policeman called me, another came to pick me up and, taking me by the forearm strictly professionally, led me to the examination desk.

Of course everyone was staring at me.
And then the search of my bag at the entrance to the courthouse began, in front of an auditorium waiting for something and in that waiting there is no smarter job so watch.

They took everything out one by one because the scanner is not wrong… Parts of clothes, tracksuit one, T-shirts two, kit, keys, chewing gum, pills against everything and for everything countless pieces, screwdriver, ballet shoes pieces two, underwear with polka dots, spring from grandmother's ottoman , torn sintelan tube and the whole packaging of wood fix, towel, index, dictaphone, hair bands, wallet, pens,lighters, three notebooks and one diary, tene, pliers, two pairs of socks, wet wipes, cotton gloves two pieces in white and black, CD player, deodorant, wooden clip, paper towels, elastic bandage, chocolate, roll of tin wire, hanzaplast , banana, white acrylic tube, baby powder in a box of Bekutan cream, scissors, black cap and half a sandwich…:)

Without a single element of the crime, I looked like someone who had time for a serious informative conversation, in order to remove the slightest suspicion of any possible, even more suspicious behavior by inspecting the contents of my bag.

I believe that from that day on, the certification was transferred to the municipal building in order to reduce the possibility of a fool more serious than me bringing objects into the court building that you can use as a cold weapon. And it's not the first time I've whistled.

Every time that would happen, it would go through my head as small as possible, as small as possible… It lasted as long as that whistling. And in mine, the blue elephant slept, when he had nowhere to go. And everyone was always asking me for a pill, a hanzaplast,a part for a golf deuce, and a rocket for an anti-hail system. All that could always stop there. In order for the alarm to sound, I would forget about this thesis about the bag, until one day when, as a normal person without cargo luggage, I walked down the street with a bag the size of a pencil case.

It is that day when nothing is hectic, when you have time, when the weather is nice, so you can do as you want and where you want for your soul and your fun. Rarely but still is such a day sometimes. Well, sometimes that day, I spent wandering with a friend without a plan, hour or rush. Barefoot in sandals, dresses and ice cream. We didn't really care about everyone around us who is buzzing and rushing, it's another day for them.

And nothing was missing from my load. After such a day, I was returning home, too grateful in my mind that they had left me half of the watermelon in the neighborhood in the big refrigerator with ice cream this morning to cool off. Nothing without a store in the neighborhood.

A day perfect to enjoy, I didn’t think about the purse, nor the story of the same. I enjoyed the dress wrapped around my legs as I waited for the summer rain that evening, and sipped icy water along the way. In my absolute relaxation, my bottle cap rolled down the street a little further into the immediate vicinity of some three young men who were standing and talking. The stopper was closer to me than to them, but one of them bent down and grabbed it instead of me.

He stated that he got dirty, so he looked at me and asked for a handkerchief from the other two. He didn't ask me for anything! Imagine… Then another took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the cap in unison as if I were a sterile princess of the universe. Thanks a lot and I move on.

Strange for a moment, but polite. I didn't bother, I continued to pick up my watermelon and go to my personal oasis.
A neighbor met me at the entrance. Nothing new, but he tried to help me not pull one bag and hold the door for me. Three days before that had passed he hadn’t even turned around when I was hauling my cargo luggage and three purses for free. I kicked the door open. And again the same strange thing from a while ago, then in an instant I experience an enlightenment called as small a bag as possible… Naturally, they won't hold the door for me when I'm pulling three tons of things and I look like I've just jumped out of the anti-terrorist-sabotage platoon.

Things fell out of my hands before, but no one was allowed to approach me when I looked like I was ready now and to die if I had to! And so after countless years of listening to and connecting that famous theory, I realized that it was true, that's a coincidence…

The smaller the bag, the bigger the lady! "_