Reprimand(s) #1 – February, 2005: The Drunk Tank and Community Service

Highlights from my arrest, “the tank” and community service:

• Cuffed and chatting* with the young officer en route to jail, I BRIEFLY considered offering him sexual favors if he’d just let me go.** I said brief, people. It was like “I wonder if…” and then a half-second later I heard my ROD’s voice say in my head “don’t be an idiot, Pixie” and that was the end of that. 
• Shared the drunk tank with a tweeker who kept banging her head on the concrete wall, biting her tongue till it bled and who I graciously allowed to braid my hair to pass the time.
• Sought refuge in a corner as two women came close to brawling over the barely private toilet stall.
• Upon my release, being the sentimental person that I am, I asked if I could keep my inmate tags they cut off my wrist.  The woman behind the glass window gave me disapproving eyes and I sheepishly bid her farewell, never thinking I’d find myself there again. You know what happened next. Just a mere couple hours later, I drank, got behind the wheel again, got pulled over and drove away with a warning. Un-fucking-believable.

Speaking of being sentimental, if you recall, I’m co-planning my 20 year high school reunion. Of course I have all of my yearbooks and of course I busted my senior one out. It was fun flipping through it and looking at pictures and notes that people wrote. I had forgotten about one in particular – an “implication” with no name – and it definitely gave me pause.

I knew exactly who wrote it. I went on to allow him to use various methods to achieve SD status over the next 8 years, bruising my ego and taking what he wanted and leaving the rest.  As he once stated as I cried in the back of his car:

“You bring this onto yourself, Pixie.”

He’s right. I did.

But you know what I didn’t bring on to myself?

Body image issues and low self-worth.

That’s largely on him.

He did.

#morewillberevealed

P.S. Oh yeah, I mentioned community service. This experience was pretty uneventful. The only memory worth mentioning from my time in the orange vest was the small exchange I had with the supervising officer on day 1 and it went a little something like this:

Officer: Alright ya’ll, grab your gloves and let’s get to work.

Me: Shoot, I need gloves?  I didn’t bring any.

Officer: You came to community service with no gloves? How many days you got?

Me: um, 2?

Officer: That’s all? Hey everybody! White girl here only has 2 days.

Me: (in my head) oh no, now I have a target on my back.

(Eye roll) So dramatic. That’s some judgmental bullshit right there. All of it.  On MY part. I mean, wow.