by KATE HUNTER
Dear Kate,
I love you and I know you love me but I think you love me too much. I’m an ordinary mid-sized brown bag but I need a break.
And you need to spend time with other bags.
I’ve spent some time wondering how to bring this up – we’ve been through so much together. It had an odd start, our relationship. Your mother set us up. She said, ‘Here, Kate – I’ve got a couple of brown bags, you can have this one.’
She picked me up on a trip to Perth and let me go just as fast. But you haven’t let me go, have you? No way. You’re needy and clingy and never leave me alone. Everywhere you go, I go and it’s getting claustrophobic. People look at us and laugh. I know your sisters snigger whenever they see us together.
It’s so arrogant of you, to assume I should be with you all day, every day – and every night. I‘m not being modest when I say I’m not made for evenings out. I’m comfortable on the school run and at the supermarket on a Saturday morning. Those outings suit me. But anything fancier and I feel awkward, out of place. And that’s not fair.
When I think of all the bags that would have fitted in so perfectly at Saturday night’s 40th, that smart lunch in Sydney last year, the Christmas ball – I want to cry. I feel guilty. I should not be at those functions. I don’t belong and it’s time you realised that, grew up and learned to love different bags. It’s possible, most women do it and it doesn’t make them disloyal or easy. It makes them bolder, braver, more interesting.