I was at dinner the other day with some girlfriends and the conversation turned to the intense materialism some of our Nigerian sisters display in their day to day lives. We talking about the lengths some women go to just to carry certain bags or wear certain shoes or drive certain cars, well you get the drift…My friend said it in her tell it like it is way, “Let’s face it, some have even dabbled in the diabolical!” I laughed hard but it’s true. So I started thinking about these material things and how we have let them define us.

Trappings of wealth or trapped by wealth?

I used to have a thing for handbags, I mean I can’t compete with some of the heavy bags carriers out there, never have been able to, never really wanted to. I always said that if I couldn’t express my personal style for less than a couple of hundred (I know, I know, still a high figure) then just forget it. But last year, I fell hard for this Fendi purse. It was not overly loud, well I mean it was as quiet as anything with a logo splashed all over it could be…J It was just my style…and it was too expensive. I could afford it, but that wasn’t the point, I knew as I forked over my debit card, that it was an unnecessary expense, but somehow I felt like I needed it and had to have it.

Now I went to Nigeria and rocked the purse among others and of course found myself many a time being looked over and checked out to see whether I was among or not. Needless to say, I saw many purses in my bags family, some real, some fake and every woman carried it like an ID card.

Now I must confess, I don’t treat my bags very well. Any purse that comes into my home better be prepared to work. Gone are the days of sitting in a lighted case looking pretty. No way, you are going to be put to work, you will carry load and yet you might get set down in some not so fancy places and you may not always sleep in your dust bag…so get over it. Apparently this Fendi didn’t get the memo, because a few months ago, the handle pulled off. I was mortified. I mean the bag was packed full, I mean I had a juice box or two, a couple of lip gloss, a highly disorganized wallet, a child’s t-shirt, almonds, a novel, a small bible, sunglasses, sina’s sunglasses, crackers, a light bulb ( don’t ask) and a screwdriver. (Hey you never know!)

Now I was so irritated when the handle pulled off, I mean it’s not like this was a fake and even though Bloomingdales reassured me that they would be happy to send it off for repairs I was slightly irritated. I mean what was the point of paying so much for a bag that couldn’t stand up to my other ones.

It got me thinking about how we assign value to things.

I have heard of women putting hair on layaway, (if you don’t understand, don’t try to…na unnecessary headache be dat), I have heard of women chasing married men because they hear that just for dinner the man will gift you enough to get the latest Jimmy Choo. Na wa O. I like nice things just as much as the next person, but I like one thing more. Me!

I haven’t carried that Fendi for months, I just have no desire. The thing disappointed me and now I can’t trust that it can handle what I am going to throw in it. So it sits on the shelf and I carry my other purses that I know can handle the heat. However, I don’t find myself yearning for it, it doesn’t impact me, it doesn’t define my life. And that’s the truth, no matter how many designer bags you own, no matter what kind of car you drive, it doesn’t define you, even when you want it to. You are still you. Underneath that expensive underwear, if you don’t wash your bum, it still stinks. So what’s all the fuss about?

We have been bamboozled. Lied to and its still going on, with every ad that says you’ve got to have it, it will make you more noticeable, people will respect you, people will love you, you will be somebody…lies, every one of them. From the airbrushed models to the seductive copy, its all lies.

No bag can make you somebody. No car, no brazilian hair just cut from the baby’s scalp can define you. They are simply things. Some nicer than others but all the same just things, and they can never compensate for what and who you should be. I mean nice things are just that and if you can afford them why not, but if you have to stretch or do some crazy things to be among, please o!

I paid too much for my lazy bag. Have you? Your life is too much to trade for the trappings of wealth, your dignity, your pride. Your love, your body…all these are priceless, so bartering with them makes no sense.

I know women who have traded their futures for an upgrade. Dating a man who you don’t love and who certainly doesn’t love you just so you can be among those who now travel business class. I mean it is certainly comfy but again not worth it if I have to give up myself to do it.

Let me paint you a picture. A glossy magazine ad, a woman, beautiful seeming to radiate light from within her, happy and fulfilled and yes, fly. That’s you and me. That picture right there is what we are and we are worth more than rubies! More than Gucci, Chanel and even “Hermes”.

So I am suggesting that we stop trading ourselves for these trappings of wealth. Instead let’s trade these trappings in, so we can be the women we really want to be.

As for me, I am considering giving away my lazy Fendi…Any takers?

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