I finally have some glimpse of the truth and irritation that lives in the hearts of fifty percent of the population. It’s my day off, and I needed to get some more coffee.
I was already slobbing around in a teeshirt and tracksuit bottoms, so I pulled on some trainers and slung my new hoodie on, gathered phone, wallet, and keys and stride in out. I was halfway down the stairs from the flat when my brain started to twig there might be a problem.
Where was I going to put my keys? Where, for that matter, my wallet or phone? I was halfway across the estate before my brain caught up to the conclusion that I had no pockets. Ah, I thought, so this is what it’s like.
I could have turned round then, but my coffee was calling, so I carried on, thinking that I really wished I had something to carry them in rather than all consumed in one of my fists. The only way to be more convenient and have my hands full would be… Yes, a bag over my shoulder.
It was at this point that my irrational hatred of “manbags” or satchels rose to the surface. Why need one? I thought, if you already have pockets?
As I walked across the car park, I spotted various women grimly holding possessions or wandering carefree with their handbags. I then got a bit confused at seeing a woman with pockets still carrying things in her hand until I realised she was playing Pokémon Go as she walked up to her car.
Once in the supermarket I if course had a basket, and then the luxury of a plastic bag in which to put my possessions along with my shopping.
How have women not risen up in fury yet at a lack of pockets?