Eventually, I was lead into a room where I met the first of many Corrections Officers I was to come in contact with over the course of my incarceration. She smiled and treated me very nicely. She explained that jail is not so bad, that I would be treated just as I am in daily life, and that I’d be in contact with my family soon. I wonder if having the ability to lie with a smile on your face is a requirement for the job of Corrections Officer. However, her positive words, smiling facial expressions, and calm demeanor were the last residual of humanity that I experienced for many, many months.
“REMOVE YOUR HOSIERY” the Corrections Officer told me within minutes of my sentencing.
What???? I know most women don’t wear pantyhose anymore, but Cosmo clearly says it’s okay for us, the “near 50″ crowd, to wear pantyhose. Was I violating some jailhouse fashion rule? Why were potential violations of rules of fashion the first thing that came to mind when I was told to remove my hosiery? My puzzled look must have clued the Officer into my complete misunderstanding. She explained that pantyhose is one of the easiest tools used to commit suicide by women in jail. HUHHHHH-WHAT?
My pantyhose, brand new black pumps, and expensive jacket were taken from me. Those items were put in a bag and labeled with my name. However, there was no bag in which they put my personal dignity, a far more valuable item than my clothing, but one that completely disappeared at that instant. Like magic, it was gone.The Officer assured me that my husband would be given my purse, keys and cell phone. I was then locked in a chilly, FILTHY cell, and left alone for over an hour. The tears began. They did not end for a long, long time.
I should be at work now, attending meetings, completing paperwork, returning phone calls, and chatting with my coworkers about the weather. It suddenly hit me that I was a convicted felon! I would quite possibly never work again. MY RETIREMENT PARTY WAS BEING HELD RIGHT HERE AND NOW IN THIS DISGUSTING HELLHOLE! That fake-sweet officer and I were the only ones in attendance. Realizations such as that struck me like a punch in the stomach. What was happening to me?
“REMOVE YOUR HOSIERY” the Corrections Officer told me within minutes of my sentencing.
What???? I know most women don’t wear pantyhose anymore, but Cosmo clearly says it’s okay for us, the “near 50″ crowd, to wear pantyhose. Was I violating some jailhouse fashion rule? Why were potential violations of rules of fashion the first thing that came to mind when I was told to remove my hosiery? My puzzled look must have clued the Officer into my complete misunderstanding. She explained that pantyhose is one of the easiest tools used to commit suicide by women in jail. HUHHHHH-WHAT?
My pantyhose, brand new black pumps, and expensive jacket were taken from me. Those items were put in a bag and labeled with my name. However, there was no bag in which they put my personal dignity, a far more valuable item than my clothing, but one that completely disappeared at that instant. Like magic, it was gone.The Officer assured me that my husband would be given my purse, keys and cell phone. I was then locked in a chilly, FILTHY cell, and left alone for over an hour. The tears began. They did not end for a long, long time.
I should be at work now, attending meetings, completing paperwork, returning phone calls, and chatting with my coworkers about the weather. It suddenly hit me that I was a convicted felon! I would quite possibly never work again. MY RETIREMENT PARTY WAS BEING HELD RIGHT HERE AND NOW IN THIS DISGUSTING HELLHOLE! That fake-sweet officer and I were the only ones in attendance. Realizations such as that struck me like a punch in the stomach. What was happening to me?
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