A change of character.

I'm pretty much a dude. When I was a kid, I didn't want to have anything to do with the My Little Ponies, Polly Pockets, or Barbies. Instead, I was spinning on my butt, pretending to be Michelangelo from "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles." When my friends and I used to play He-Man, I was always the man himself. I don't listen to Katy Perry or Lady Gaga- I rock out to Scorpions, Ratt, Whitesnake, and Def Leppard (yeah, all great 80's hair metal bands have to have an animal in the name).

So basically, I have never considered myself to be very feminine. I may look kinda girly, but I have always thought of myself as a rough, masculine kind of person rather than a gentle, delicate girly girl.

I am also a cheap bastard. Anyone who knows me knows that I pinch every penny. I go to the "free stuff" websites and squeal when my trial-sized tubes of toothpaste, mini boxes of cereal, or packets of Metamucil come in the mail. I clip coupons and I use them. I don't buy things unless they're on sale. I'm basically an 80-year-old Jewish grandma in the body of a 24-year-old.

So it really shocked me about a month ago when I fell in love. With a purse.

I was writing an article for work entitled "Fun Spring Accessories" that required me to scour the internet for...well...fun spring accessories. I went over to the Ann Taylor site (God knows why- I have never shopped there and I don't feel quite old enough to start) and clicked on "handbags and belts," hoping that I could find a great belt to add to the collection. But that's when I saw it. Right in the middle of the page. Shining and beautiful. This gorgeous purse:

It was immediately the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and fell deeply, madly, passionately in love.

Oh, and it was $198. I have NEVER spent more than $60 on a purse and I don't think I've ever spent more than $100 on any item of clothing before (besides maybe a prom dress or something). I couldn't justify buying it. So instead, I told everyone I knew about it. I visited it every day in its home on the Ann Taylor website. I admired it. I dreamt of touching its soft leathery goodness. And I futilely put it on my birthday list, knowing that nobody would get it for me.

When my birthday came, my boyfriend gave me my presents. No purse. My grandparents gave me my presents. No bag. My parents gave me my presents. Still no bag.

A few hours after I had opened my presents from my parents, my mom left the room and came back saying, "oops, I forgot one present!" You all know what happens next.

So now I am the owner of a girly, expensive bag and I have never been prouder. But I wonder if this signifies some sort of change in me. Will I start spending more on clothes? Will I start caring more about accessories and hair and makeup and clothes? Or is this just one momentary lapse in character? All I know is that I feel like a million bucks, so I don't care. I am a little concerned, however, that my new best friend is now a purse.

And her name is Henrietta...