A story of identity?
Once upon a time, our heroine had a handbag. The handbag was nothing special. It wasn't a designer label. It didn't hold incredible secrets. Just a purse, mobile phone, keys, hairbrush, mascara, lipstick, tissues, tampons etc. But it went everywhere with her - our heroine would not have dreamt about stepping across the threshold of her house without it.
Then she had a baby. The first couple of times she left the house with the baby she took the handbag with the baby and the baby's changing bag. But she simply did not have enough hands to hold the baby, the baby's buggy/car seat, the changing bag, and her handbag. So she took the purse, the mobile phone and the keys out of the handbag and put them in a pocket of the changing bag.
As the baby got older, more and more things were put into the changing bag - cups, feeding utensils, books, plastic toys as well as nappies, wipes and bags. And the purse, mobile phone and keys were still in a pocket too. The handbag that had been hung up in the closet, still with the mascara and lipstick inside it, was hardly given a second thought.
One day, our heroine realised that she did not need to take such a big, heavy, changing bag if she was only going out for a short while, and so she found an old (big) handbag and put into it some wipes, tissues, a spare nappy and a couple of nappy bags, as well as her purse, keys and phone. Now on the rare occasions when she is going out without her child - in a rush she takes the handbag with her, having fought hard to squeeze in a comb and lipstick amidst the wipes and tissues. It is only when she is out surrounded by others with tiny, pretty, handbags that she realises she could have used a different bag with just her things inside.
