How Real Is Your Shit?

I only own two real designer purses.  Each gift was purchased in the store, accompanied with a certificate of authenticy.

On the other hand, I have personally purchased several questionable designer purses from a Vietnamese woman on Canal Street.  Nothing verifies their authenticy.  But an oversized Gucci for $80 beats a Berkin at $15K.

Some women put too much emphasis on authenticy.  Who the hell cares if a chick rocks a fake Loius.  Instead of labeling her as a trifling, perpetuating bitch attempt to consider that she may enjoy designer looks but cringes at the price of a purse worth more than a semester of school.

The same chicks rocking authentic $3K Chanel purses are still rolling with counterfeit, trifling ass men.  Your purse and its certificate do not outshine the fact that your man is wack as hell.  Fraudulent as fuck.  Treats you like shit.  And is banging three other broads on the side.  And one of them is rocking that “NewNew’” Canal shit and your man loves it.

So babygirl, trust and believe your shit ain’t no more authentic than mine.  And to make matters worse, I saved a couple of G’s while managing to slide my number to your man while you were busy strolling through Saks looking for a purple Chloe purse.

Open your eyes and stop focusing on being able to recognize a real Fendi purse and become trained in the art of recognizing a real man.

Stop concerning yourself with what’s hanging off the arm of the next chick and pay close attention to the arm you hang unto and call the real thing.