a blog launched to laugh at my own expense

Confessions of An Overpacker

I spend a lot of time considering what I will title my memoir but, as of late, I have decided that “Confessions of an Overpacker” is the latest front runner. In preparation for my impending publishing deal, (LOL JK AS IF LOL LOL), I have decided to weigh the pros and cons of this self inflicted lifestyle. 

(Above: Me wheeling my suitcase.. which is packed for a 2 hour day trip)


1. Since I have been known to confuse C° and F° degrees, I have to be prepared for a 50 degree temperature swing at all times. Not only am I inept at temperature gauging but I am also allergic to outfit repeating and allergic to hand washing so ….. on any given excursion my suitcase contains a ratio of 15 outfits for every 30 hours of the trip. 

2. I am any country’s GDP MVP. Part of my packing list always includes an extra suitcase for whatever I procure during my trip. When I lived in Africa, I personally helped Tanzania’s 2011 GDP just in terms of my personal exports. 


1. You can’t fly budget airlines. One time I flew Spirit… (don’t worry…I survived) and my friend asked me what I was going to do with all the money I saved. I said, “Fly my luggage”. I can assure you there was nothing budget about my experience with Spirit. To quote my loving and endearing boyfriend, “There is nothing budget about you.”

2. As with budget airlines, my physical and emotional baggage has never fit in an economy size rental car.  Luckily, during the 27 years my father has been my father, he has learned this lesson and and expects some sacrifices to be made. Like his lap space.

3. Through trial and error, I have learned that I am not the target demographic for backpacking. When my family backpacked Patagonia, my sherpa needed a sherpa just to carry all of my things. 

4. Some European elevators discriminate against over packers.  See below photo of me trying to chaperone my bags to the 6th floor. If my bags and I had not fit in the elevator, then we would have either slept in the lobby or slept in the car because I am not emotionally or physically strong enough to carry my luggage up 6 flights of stairs. 

5. Bellhops hate me. I am sure there is a group of bellhops who get together for weekly therapy sessions because they have been personally victimized by the sheer amount of my luggage.  

6. Dating an overpacker. The only thing worse than an overpacker… is two overpackers traveling together. Anytime we pack the car, my Eagle Scout of a boyfriend engages in an intensive real life game of tetris. 

In conclusion, my memoir remains unnamed and my status as an overpacker remains unchanged. Being an overpacker is an easy burden to bare when your super cute luggage is pink and on wheels. 

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