A little pop, jazz, blues, rock and touch of classical.
(Somehow they all fight to be heard)
A pair of converse sneakers along side a variety of heels and one lonely thonged Birkenstock
(somehow, yes, I managed to lose one last week).
Sarah, my favourite esthetician who I see weekly
(holding a bottle of Opi’s Barefoot In Barcelona in one hand and Elephantastic Pink in the other)
A couple of my mood swings
(which at times is a constant war of who will reign supreme in the mood war?)
A mix of ex-boyfriends
(With my current beau, The Gentleman puffing up his chest as his foot holds down a pile of ex’s wiggling to their death)
A bottle of B-complex, Iron, Sun Warrior Protein Powder and E3Live, my little blue-green power.
(Essentials for this superwoman)
Coconut water, kale and other greens, nuts, fruit and maybe a steak.
(For two reasons, because I’m Brazilian and damn it, I like variety)
So the other day as The Gentleman put on some music which he called, happy tunage, I was mortified when I heard 80′s rock. It was then that I realized, that teased hair and acid wash wearing rocker bands were happily residing in his bag. This Van Halen-Metallic revelation made me puke a little in my mouth.
I realized that our bags have a lot to say about who we are and quite potentially our compatibility with others. And don’t forget that food plays a big role in this too because trust me when I say, it says a lot about who we are.
Here is one of my favourite snacks in my bag.
Toast bread, spread almond butter and place sliced pear along top. Drizzle with honey and enjoy! Nomnomnomnomnom.
When I was little I was a peanut butter eating junkie. That combined with some jam and you’d have the best choke and slide sandwich out there. Washing this fluffy white bread creation down with a big glass of milk, I began to act out. Maybe it was the dairy, the processed bread, the mold in the peanut butter or the high amount of sugar in the commercial jam, but whatever it was, what I ate made me a tyrant and very self-conscious when my skin became resident to a plethora of mini moguls.
So on the flip side? This is a much sexier version. Almond butter is yes, the better option. And while it is more expensive, in my opinion, it’s worth every penny. The juicy pears give me the sweetness and cooling I need in the summer without all the while sugar of commercial jams. Plus a wee bit of honey and I can feel like I treated myself to something sweet. And why the heck not?
After all, we always have options. Versus identifying yourself with your current McStaple that happily congeals into a processed knot in your stomach, a more living alternative in my opinion creates sexiness that the Frankenfood can’t touch. And if you’re lucky like me, you’re partner will gladly eat up just about any sexy food you have to offer – even if it’s the greenest of green smoothies.
But with matters of the heart, there are always options. Because while we may not be musically bag compatible on all levels, there are several ways for you to stay clear of your man’s preference for hairy-beast, lipstick wearing 80′s monkeys that violated the airwaves during the ugly decade. We can see that this isn’t grounds for disagreement, but rather opportunities for interpersonal revelations:
Okay, so I suppose I can appreciate that guitar riff.
or my favourite…
The belt that Van Halen is sporting looks exactly like the belt I saw at H&M the other day.
Yes, interpersonal revelations can bring two musically incompatible bagged people together who might fight for control of the iTouch. And when all else fails, saying, dinner’s ready is the best way to get Pavlov’s dog away from his happy tunage and into yours.