Day 17: prison nicknames

Still stuck in this awful cell, sleeping on the top bunk, listening to my bunky's life story. Again. Oddly, it keeps changing. First, she said she has only been addicted to medicinal drugs, then her story changed and she talked about use of meth and cocaine. Then back to swearing she's never used "illegal" drugs. She made me promise that I'd never tell anyone she has stolen doctors' DEA numbers, that she's beaten her husband, and that she has an STD. Then I hear her tell others in the shower all those things and more. Why would you tell other women in the shower that you have a sexually transmitted disease?

The walls are somewhat thin, and with the windows open we can have some degree of conversation between rooms. My next cell neighbor decided we all needed prison nicknames. YES! My nicknames in school were always brown-nose and teacher's pet, and while raising my kids I was "mom" to the whole neighborhood. So here I thought was my opportunity to get some really bad-ass nickname. Maybe "Spike" or "Stomper"! Maybe "Slash" or "Smasher"! After the neighbor gave out the nicknames of "ice blood," "T-Bone" and "Miss Vicious" it was my turn. I suggested a few that I thought might make me appear tough and mean (this is prison, after all) but they were turned down. One girl suggested "French Vanilla" (because of my pale skin). Not exactly a nickname to make anyone tremble. Another suggested Ro-Ro, but apparently, there was already a Ro-Ro in the cellblock. Another suggested Rosie, and another suggested Zee. Huh? But those are my names! Finally, Ro-Z was settled on. Oh great, I ended up with my own name as my nickname. I'm as boring in prison as I was before I got there.