41 year old MAZ stood by the stack of camis in the women's clothes at Target, 3 steps from the bustling shoppers on the main aisle.
I found the color I wanted but could not remember the size I needed.
Realizing that I was wearing one under my cardigan sweater, I positioned the sweater up higher in the front, letting the neck of the sweater droop down my back.
"Mom, could you look at the size on my cami? Is it a medium or a large?"
I turned to face the main aisle, making sure my sweater was covering my bare shoulders and bra straps, and placing my back to my mom.......
I was completely unaware that she still saw me as her 4 year old daughter, that would stand grumpily in the middle of KMart, while she ripped Margaret Alice's shirt off to try on the new clothes....
I didn't know dressing rooms existed until I was 10.
The next seconds happened in such slow motion, I am not sure my writing can recreate it appropriately, for the reader.
My hands were holding the sides of the sweater....
and then suddenly my loosely wrapped cardigan was jerked off my shoulders, falling to drape around my knees and my cami was tightly pulled behind me allowing her frigid fingers to touch my back and my front was exposing enough of my bra to make me look like a Lane Bryant underwear model.
I AM NOT 4 years old!"
I quietly but firmly exclaimed in staccato, as an older man looked at me in horror and I responded with this...
My mom, hidden behind me, defended
"well....you asked me to look at the size..."