I have a new card in my Coach wallet, which lives in my Louis Vuitton purse. I carry that purse proudly on an arm that also sports a tried-and-true, been-through-the-mill, never-goes-out-of-style Ladies Oyster Perpetual DateJust (stainless and gold, natch). For those of you not in the know, that's a Rolex. The shoes on my feet are 90% of the time designer, and my jewelry is either real or designer costume. I'm by no means a snob, I just like my shit nice. I block out the hate with Coach sunglasses (which are in need of an upgrade, I was thinking Gucci).
This new card in the Coach wallet on my bedazzled arm is really, really bothering me. Next to preferred member cards to a few swanky shops lies the utter bane (and savior) of my existence. Public assistance. I shiver at the thought. I thought about downgrading out of the LV bag and into something a little less pretentious (say B.Makowsky) in case someone spies my freshly minted EBT card. Then I thought better of it. Fuck em. I'm down on my luck, and who says I should have to put away my pretty things because of it?
I do feel a little like Old Dirty Bastard cashing my welfare check with a record deal, though. Granted my food stamp card holds a mere $133 and I have no other means of buying food at this point (anyone who even thinks that I should pawn/sell/consign my luxury items should commence in a long walk off a short pier immediately), but I did have a wave of guilt slipping that card into a $1,500 purse. Then again... A girl's gotta eat.