Walking back to the large sized non-maternity section I grab a 36DDD black bra and relax. If my boobs actually get this big I'm going to fall over anyway so who cares what it looks like. There is only so much fight against gravity one person can wage. There is only so much my back can handle before I face-plant. If I did actually grow to a 36DDD I'd probably be on bed rest anyway, right? God, I hope so.
Walking to the counter I'm fine. Still. I'm not losing it, and I'm not going to freak over anything. There’s nothing to freak out over. I could probably call Mack and even tell him I'm shopping and I'm completely fine, but I don't want to interrupt the sexfest happening in New York.
Ugh, the girl in front of me is tiny and perfect. Another one? Seriously? Okay, so I may have missed the 'working out makes you look hot like this' memo, or maybe I threw it out by mistake with my take-out menus. Whatever. She's hot. Oh, and look- a matching WHITE lacy bra and panty set of course. Yuck. I'm fine. And she's awesome.
When it's my turn, I place my huge new underwear on the counter and smile at the middle-aged woman while totally embarrassed by my purchases.
“We have a large maternity section over there,” she points with a lovely smile.
“I know. I was there, but you don't have any black which I absolutely require, so I'm just going to get these. Is that okay?” Why am I asking permission? Dammit.
“Oh, we usually have a few undergarments in black, but not many. Most women prefer the softer colors while pregnant.” God. Why?
“It's fine. I'll just take these,” I sigh.
Smiling again, thankfully the kind looking middle-aged woman named Kora doesn't say anything else to me about my undies. I mean seriously? Doesn't she know I just want to buy these tent-size drawers as quickly as possible and get them into the bag even quicker? Why is every single pair on a friggin' hanger? What is with that? Jesus, it's taking her forever to unhook, fold and bag each pair of my humongous underwear. Argh...
After paying with my Debit again I almost laugh at the bill. I never realized how expensive huge underwear were. At 12.99 each, times 13 pair plus my massive bra I actually managed to spend over two hundred dollars on underwear! Christ, even my new 'Suzanne with a twist' boots weren't that much and I'll have these babies forever! Unlike this underwear, which I'm going to burn in a few months.
Practically running... okay, limping quickly from the store, I exhale. I think that's it for me today. I'm still okay, but I'm feeling anxiety definitely creeping up, so I think it's time to end my solo shopping excursion before I'm not okay. I'm handling the few stares and double takes I'm getting, and I'm still okay. But it is definitely Time. To. Go.
Walking back into the main mall I need to go home. I know I'm getting anxious and I know I need a pill, but I forgot them at home because I'm an idiot. So far so good though.
Passing another funky clothing store, I figure what the hell? Shopping online fills a void in me, as Mack would say, but shopping in person is both exhilarating and nauseating at once.
Looking around, I see a decent array of black shirts, blouses, skirts and even jeans, NOT that I can fit into any proper sizes at the moment… but maybe afterward?
Grabbing a large, swingy cotton peasant-type dress in black, I think I found something I can fit into and actually wear today. It lands just lower than my knee so it'll look pretty cool with my new boots.
Maybe this whole shopping experience is my unconsciousness telling me that though I must stick with my blacks, it's time to branch out from my typical conservative wardrobe. Maybe this whole situation is my mind's way of telling me it's time to be different than I was. Maybe this is my way of changing my outer self to match all the physical changes I've had to endure these last few months. Maybe this is me trying to change who I am now. Maybe? I don't know but I'm shaky now.
Abruptly leaving the store, I know I need to get home. I've had enough. I'm starting to think in circles, and I'm not as clear as I usually am. Well, this is a step. At least I recognize I'm less clear in the head. Before, I didn't know when I was strange. I just was.
Pushing past people I'm just desperate to get back to the front doors to hail a cab. I need to get home before I have to call Mack for help. I need to get home to my anxiety medication. Ugh. Why does everyone walk so slow in a mall when they know people are right behind them trying to pass?
Suddenly, feeling my arm tugged, I panic! Spinning around and covering my head as best as I can, I collapse on the floor to evade the men. Waiting for the blows, I breathe in short bursts as my mind spins.
Why does this always happen to me?! I thought I would be safe in a public place. I thought for sure I was safe!
“Mam, are you alright?” What?
Looking up I see a Security Guard standing over me, not a man. Well, not a bad man. What the hell?
“Yes, I'm fine. Why?” Crap, my voice is all raspy and breathy.
“Can you stand?” He asks kindly.
“I think so,” I pause trying to stand on my own, but when he reaches for my hand, I pull away again. “Why did you touch me?” I beg.
“I was trying to get your attention. Do you need any medical assistance?” Um...
“No. Why?” Shit.
Looking around, this is so embarrassing. There are so many people stopping to look at me. I'm suddenly surrounded by gawkers and nosy bitches loving the show. Oh my god. I hate when people see me.
“Can you make them stop seeing me?” I whisper.
When the Security Guard leans down to me, I don't flinch this time. He doesn't look mean or angry, just concerned. Thank god. I couldn't stand meanness right now. I just need to get home.
“Let me help you up,” he smiles kindly.
“Thank you.”
Putting his hand behind my back and taking my right hand in his own, he pulls me to a stand with him. Listing a little to the left, he tightens his grip on me.
“I'm sorry my face is ugly now. It wasn't before. It was just plain, but now it's ugly. I'm sorry.”
“What's your name?”
“Suzanne Anderson,” and looking I see his is Kevin. Didn't I just meet a Kevin? No, Kora. Kevin and Kora, cute. She would have to be his cougar though, because he looks about 30ish to lovely Kora’s 55 years. Cool.
“Why did you touch me Kevin?”
“I was trying to call you to a stop. I called you a few times, but I don't think you heard me.”
“Oh. Did you know my name then?” Shit. Do I know him?
“No. Actually, I said 'excuse me' and 'hey you' a few times but you ignored me,” he grins.
“Oh. Well, I only answer to Suzanne now. That's what my name is, well always was, but IS… especially now. I am Suzanne Anderson, and nothing else. Now, I'm just Suzanne.”
Looking around I see people still stopped near us watching and listening. Jesus! Could this be any more embarrassing? Turning my back to the people, I'm flush with a dark glass window of a knick-knack store.
Oh FUCK! I've done it again. Okay, breathe. Shit. There I am. Mascara everywhere, looking like a freak again. Shit. Shit. SHIT! But I'm okay. I know I am. How did I do this? I know better than this. I'M better than this.
“Kevin, I'm sorry. I screwed up. I'm not supposed to get this upset, and I'm not supposed to cry in public. I made a mistake but I didn't realize it until now. I have to go. I have to go home now before Mack and Kayla find out. Shit. Please don't tell Z. I'm fine now, I swear. I'm not freaked out anymore, I promise.”
Feeling my body shaking, I'm just sick over this mistake. God Dammit! Mack should be able to go away for 2 friggin' days without ‘Suzanne the Psycho’ coming out to play.
“Mrs. Anderson, I need to talk to you in private. Would you please follow me, and we'll get away from all these people,” he says quietly to me.
“I swear I'm okay Kevin. I'm just going to go home now. I'll flag a cab and be out of here in a minute. I'm fine. I'm not a Psycho. Well, not like that anymore. This is not a nervous breakdown either because Mack
said. So I'm fine. I just forgot my anxiety medicine, but I'm going home to get it. Please...”
When Kevin bends back down he picks up my bags and looks back at me with sadness, I think. Oh, no.
“I'm okay, I promise. Please don't look like that,” I beg.
“Mrs. Anderson, you have to come with me. The manager at Felice saw you steal this dress from the store,” he says calmly lifting the dress to me.
Oh. My. GOD!
“I didn't steal that, I swear! I don't know how I have that. I would never steal,” I scream. “I would never take something. I didn't do it. I didn't mean to. I don't know how I did that!” Fuck. I can't breathe.
No longer looking so nice, Kevin takes my burned arm in his hand and says, “I'm sure you didn't steal it Mrs. Anderson, but you still have to come with me.”
Bursting into tears I am just shocked by this situation. This can’t be happening. Who does this? Who would want to? Just the humiliation alone is SO not worth the risk of shoplifting. I would never do this! I didn't do this.
Trying to pull my arm away, Kevin holds tighter. Oh god. Not my skin. Not my burns. I don't want him to feel them through my blouse.
“Please Kevin, I promise I didn't do this. I didn't realize I was holding the dress when I left the store, I swear. I have more than enough money to pay for it. Look at my new 'Suzanne with a twist' boots! They were over a hundred and sixty dollars!”
Quickly opening up my other bag, I grab all my underwear and hold them up to his face. When the huge bra drops to the floor I scoop it up and slip it up my arms so it’s against my boobs and yell, “See! This sucker doesn't even fit yet, but I bought it anyway in case, and it was forty-five dollars. Look, all this underwear cost over two hundred! Look at all my new underwear! Why the hell would I steal a twenty dollar dress? And look at all my new UNDERWEAR!” Ha! There. See! That makes sense.
Turning for a second I see a man looking at me like I'm crazy. Actually, he has a look of utter disgust on his face. Why?
“Don't look at me like that!” I scream at the man. “What did I do to you to deserve that look?” Christ! I still can't breathe.
Staring at Kevin again, I take it all in as he stares back at me silently. Holy SHIT! Exhale…
I'm crying and shaking and barely breathing and yelling and waving humongous underwear around in the middle of a fucking mall with a gigantic bra against my chest, cupping my boobs. Besides Kevin, I see other people looking embarrassed too. Embarrassed for me or because of me? Who can tell? Jesus Christ... I'm a freak!
Whoosh.
Oh. My. GOD. Again? Oh, come ON! Why shopping? Why SHOPPING?! Why not at the dentist, or on a tall ladder, or at the gynecologist, or, or boarding a plane like a normal person? Why the hell must I freak the fuck out while shopping?!
I can't do anything right, no matter how hard I try. Wiping away the mascara on my cheeks with my hands, I know I've smeared my caked on cover the scars make-up, but what else can I do?
Exhaling all the crazy out of me, I sigh my defeat.
“I'm so sorry, Kevin. Where should we go?”
Picking up the bag from the floor, I throw all my underwear and my bra back in. Holding my huge boot box with my killer heels, I give in. What's the point? I've screwed up again.
“Mrs. Anderson, I'm very sorry,” he whispers. God, he looks honestly upset by this.
“It's okay. You're just doing your job, and I must look like a crazy shoplifter. I get it. Can we just go?”
Nodding, Kevin takes my arm again and though I flinch a little at his touch I don't fight his grip this time. This time I give in. This time, I'm ready.
God, I need my anti-anxiety meds. I didn't even realize before that they helped because I always took them because Mack makes me take them, but now I see I actually do need them.
I’ve often wondered if I was a junkie or like totally dependent on my meds. Well, I guess I have my answer now. I am and I totally do. And I am so screwed this time.
Walking quietly through the mall beside Kevin my face is lowered and as covered as I can with my hair. Kevin even tries to talk to me kindly a few times, but I just can't. This feels like walking to my mother when she was mad at me. I knew I didn't do anything wrong then but I was going to be punished anyway. Now, I didn't do anything wrong on purpose but it was still bad and I'm still going to be punished.
I am absolutely humiliated and sad that I failed this adventure. I wish I had been able to do this on my own. God, I don't want Mack and Kayla to be disappointed in me, but they will be and I know I'll deserve their disappointment this time.
When we enter a large room, there are other security guards and cameras and stuff everywhere. I see the monitors and I just know they all saw me freak out and I'm horribly embarrassed to be here with them.
When another man walks up to us, Kevin tells him my name. Shit. Here we go. Suzanne Anderson. Hopefully they don't have a clue I'm THE Suzanne Anderson- ‘Mental case, Nut bar, Sexual Abuse Victim Extraordinaire’. Hopefully, I'm just some generic crazy shoplifter to them. One could only dream.
“Mrs. Anderson, do you know why you were apprehended by Security?”
“Yes. It appears that I shoplifted a twenty dollar dress, which I promise was a mistake. I didn't realize I was still holding the dress when I left the store. I just wanted to get home quickly because I was suffering from anxiety and I forgot my medication at home,” I confess.
“So leaving Felice with the dress was accidental?” He looks like I'm a complete asshole liar.
“Yes, sir. I'm sorry.” Great! Now I'm a child again, apologizing always. The sound of the words 'I'm sorry' make me sick. I hate this feeling. “I can pay for the dress, I promise. I have the money and it was a complete accident leaving the store with it.”
“Was it?” Okay, head Security Guard Stanley looks like I'm a total lying loser, and I'm sure to him I am. I'm sure he's heard all these excuses before. I'm sure he thinks I'm just like every other shoplifter in the mall.
Again, I sigh my defeat. “You can call my best friend, Dr. Michael MacDonald and ask him. I have lots of money but I got confused and stressed and freaked out in the store and I just wanted to get home, but I didn't know I was still holding the dress when I left. I just don't understand. I didn't touch anything red...”
“Red?”
“Yes, red. Forget it. It really doesn't matter anymore. Nothing does. What do we do now? Do we call the Police?” Maybe Mack and Kayla don't need to help me. Maybe they don't need to know.
“Wait! Detective Rogers and Detective Bennici- Oh! And D.A. Rose know me. And they can tell you I have money, and that I'm good, and that I wouldn't steal anything, and that I'm Suzanne Anderson, and that I'm not a bad person.” Thank god I thought of them. Please. Please. Please, call them.
“D.A. Rose? As in the District Attorney of Chicago?” Okay, I see the bullshit-o-meter going off in his head, and I can almost feel him trying not to laugh at me.
“Yes, him. I have his card in my wallet. Can I get it?”
“Sure,” he smiles.
Looking at Kevin, I'm so sad I think I'm going to cry again. Actually, I think I was crying this whole time but just didn't realize it until this moment. It's weird how that happens. Obviously, I feel myself when I'm sobbing, but sometimes when I'm silently crying I don't even realize it until I'm covered in tears. I wonder if that's because the nerves are shot in half my face. Giggle. I should ask Mack if that's possibly the reason. Shit. Focus!
Going through my wallet I pull out my cash which is over a hundred in bills and whisper, “See. I could've paid if I'd known,” while I look for the business card of Mr. Rose. Finding it and handing it over to Stanley, I just wait. Huh. He looks surprised that I had the card. I should really ask if I'm allowed to call Glenn myself.
“Would you like me to call him? He put his cell number on the card for me.”
“Ah, sure. If you want.” He looks even more surprised. Wow. I feel a little less pathetic and upset sudde
nly as I start dialing.
When Glenn answers his clipped ‘Rose’, I'm instantly relieved. He has such a nice strong voice that has always been very kind to me the dozen or so times we've spoken. He doesn't seem to take shit from anybody though, which I guess he wouldn't as the D.A. of friggin' Chicago.
“Mr. Rose, this is Suzanne Anderson. I'm in some trouble and-”
“Have you been threatened, Suzanne?” He demands.
“No! Not like that, I-”
“Speaker phone,” Stanley states beside me.
Nodding to Stanley I ask, “Mr. Rose, may I put you on speaker phone? I'm in the Security office at Fairfield Mall.”
“Go ahead,” he says as I hear shuffling on his phone. Putting my iPhone on speaker I just wait for a second. Christ! This is embarrassing.
“Please identify yourself,” Stanley demands.
“This is District Attorney Glenn Rose. And your name is?”
“Stanley Hamilton of Amble Security stationed at Fairfield Mall.”
“All right Stanley, badge number?” Yikes. This feel very testosterony suddenly.
“4-6-4. D.A. Rose, I have Suzanne Anderson here with me and she’s been apprehended for shoplifting-”
Glenn suddenly barks a laugh, which amazingly makes me smile and prompts me to confess.
“It was an accident Mr. Rose! I started getting anxiety at the mall, and I forgot my medication and I left a store quickly to go get a cab so I could go home, and Kevin, the other security guard here grabbed my arm-” Kevin flinches.
“Are you hurt, Suzanne?” Glenn asks seriously.
“No, I just freaked out and fell down when he touched me but he wasn't mean, I just, you know how I am with men and touch and, and the other stuff. Anyway, Kevin showed me the dress I was still holding but I didn't mean to take it, I swear. I already bought a bunch of things, and I have more money in my wallet than the dress even costs plus, well, you know I have more money than twenty dollars, but I really didn't mean to take it. I wouldn't take it. It was an accident. And now I look like a thief and a Psycho-”
This Is Me... Page 21