Bag Binging


Confession time.

I’ve been binging on bags. I think I must have bought 30 designer bags in the past month. I think it’s because I feel bad that I’ve gained weight and refuse to buy shoes anymore (I have too much) and refuse to buy clothes because I want to fit into my old ones. Plus, my shoulder is busted and I can’t do burpees anymore. And my twin’s body doesn’t know how to get to me. Hmp.

I have deadlines looming left and right and all I can do is shop online.  What a way to relieve pressure. An expensive way.  Of course, I know this has got to stop and I might have bought my last two bags today — both Balenciagas.

It’s like an utterly useless protest for not being able to fit into my beautiful clothes.


It’s summer here already and the heat is getting to me.  Right now, when I’m supposed to be rushing for a deadline, all I can do is feel lethargic.  I’ve already had a nap because the heat drained me earlier on, and now all I want to do is sleep again.  Maybe I should listen to my body.


Here’s something.

The other day, in my YouTube reading for the Twin Flame Divine Masculine Collective, I said that fire was needed for creation.  Actually, it is needed for destruction THEN re-creation, just like the phoenix rising from its ashes.  I was also ranting about the fact that my twin’s body didn’t know how to get to me.

Well, today, a portion of the mall he designed here in my country caught fire.  And as I was watching the footage and the news, I got really creeped out.  I felt that the Universe was conspiring to bring him to me.  Of course, they’ll have to get that section of the mall up and running again and, depending on the damage, they might have to get him in on the action.  Then, he’ll have to come here.  Of course, that just popped up in my head, but it is entirely plausible.

I even thought to text him about it, but because I was so blehhhh, I didn’t bother.  He’ll find out anyway.  Still and all, I found that kind of creepy.  I said fire was needed for the masculines to create and voila, there’s a fire in the place that my divine masculine created.


Another manifestation story.

Earlier at the office today, my coworker remarked that she didn’t see me carrying dark brown bags.  I told her I was eyeing a dark brown bag but it still wasn’t in my price range.  That’s true though.  I was lusting after a bag in dark coffee — either a Balenciaga or a Chloe Marcie — but they were way off my price range. In other words, I was on the hunt for a good deal.

Just when I was supposed to get to working on my decision, I decide to just scroll through my timeline.  And one of my suppliers just had new stock come in with — drumroll please — the exact Balenciaga bag I was looking for.  So, of course, I got that, plus another one.

So, yes, I know I’m going overboard with the bags and I think I need to go to Bagaholics Anonymous or something.  I think it’s because I feel I’ve been deprived.  But that’s really not the case.  I’ve been deprived of bags because I CHOSE not to buy bags.  I never thought I needed designer bags.  Sure, they’re nice to look at, but I would pay a full year’s tuition for one of them. But, truthfully, I like nice bags.  I used to have a lot of them until the Universe decided to give me my dark night of the soul and I had to sell every one of them for extra pocket money.  And when my family was more fiscally comfortable, those designer/luxury items were taken for granted.  Authenticity cards were just strewn away.  It didn’t matter if the dustbags were mixed up.  They were just dust bags!  Not me, not my mom recognized the value of what we had.

And now, it sounds crazy, but I kind of on a bag rescue mission.  When I see those preloved bags that aren’t loved anymore, I kind of feel sorry for the goat/calf/lamb/python that lost its skin so that it can be made into a bag.  At least, if I get them, I honor their sacrifice because I value the bag. Of course, so that both of us are happy, I have to get it in the color and style I like.

So there.  My bag binge deconstructed.


I do realize that my twin is in the same mental place as I am.  There are things I know I have to do — go back to keto, stop the bag binge, get on the job — and yet, I’m just dragging my butt because I’m not mentally ready to start.  A commenter on my video pointed this out, and I thank her immensely.  Well, she pointed out that he wasn’t mentally ready and I kind of connected the “mirroring” dots together.

I mean, I know I’m going to do it.  And it’s not even a question of “someday”.  It’s like “soon”.


I didn’t get that career move I applied for.  Actually, even after I submitted the requirements, I already knew I didn’t want it.  It was my parents that wanted bragging rights.  So when the letter came, it was a relief.  I didn’t have to prepare for the interview.  I didn’t have to choose between my mission or my work.  And I intuitively knew that it was because I was being prepared for something else where I could do more as a lightworker and Twin Flame.

It’s my mom that’s having the rougher time.  I’ve already told her that the Universe has got something else planned but I don’t think she heard me.

Well, that’s it.  I need to try and read now or maybe go to sleep. Whatever.



About ButterKate

Mistress of MuMu and Maximus ; highly complex Gemini; semi-jaded romantic; purveyor of inane and profound conversation; incessant chocoholic; caffeine-free; mad driver on the road; pheromone questor; control freak; neurotic disguised with calm outer appearance; sufficiently amiable when placid, terrifying when provoked; occasional ditz; sporadic provider of life altering insights; retired poet; provider of mischief as the need arises; patron of destiny advisers; truth-teller (yes, the emperor has no clothes).

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