Bethany Bruno is a born and raised Florida Writer. She attended Flagler College, in St. Augustine, FL, where she earned her B.A in English. She was first published in the Flagler Review. She later attended the University of North Florida for her M.A. Before becoming a Library Specialist, she was an English Teacher and a Park Ranger with the National Park Service. She’s working on her debut novel, “From the Passenger Seat.” She lives in Port Saint Lucie, FL.
Food Stamp Anxiety
Pulling into the Walgreen’s parking lot, my senses heighten and I can feel a sense of regret. I shouldn’t be doing this, especially after all the hard work I put into the gym the last week. But, I feel like shit today and just want to eat ice cream and drink my drug of choice, Diet Pepsi. I’m sick of everyone telling me to get off the stuff. I know it’s not the healthiest drink but it’s better than alcohol. Drug addicts, alcoholics, and failures in all aspects of life exist in my circle of friends, yet I’m a fatty who likes diet soda way too much and needs to stop. Clearly, I have the problem.
My beat up tiny silver Nissan shuts off as I slide out of the driver’s seat and begin my walk toward the automatic doors. I’m dressed in my typical lazy attire- oversized hoodie, loose dress that comes down toward my knees, and thong flip flops. Some might say I’ve overdressed myself for only going to the store but the reality is I just find it easier to slip a dress over my head than having to find shorts and shirt that hides my round stomach. I’m not pregnant, by the way. The Scott family just happens to gain all of our weight in the belly region. Everywhere else is well proportioned, luckily. But the one nuisance is that I constantly have to tell people that I am, in fact, not pregnant and just fat. During last week’s failed job interview the assistant manager asked “Do you have any future happenings that would inhibit you from working?” all while staring at my stomach. I just smiled and said no, and tried to remember to suck in my stomach for the remainder of the interview. I didn’t get the job or even a call back letting me know that they had offered the position to someone else. A crappy hotel on the outskirts of town wouldn’t hire me, a college graduate with a friendly personality because I might be “indisposed” in a few months. This was the first of many times I’ve been asked something along the lines of “when are you do?” all while placing a hand on my belly. The answer is always the same – “Not a baby, just fat”… “Oh…” and away they go. The worst time this happened was when I worked at Old Navy. A woman asked me to get onto a ladder to check for a shoe in a bigger size. As I began to climb she grabbed my wrist in terror and said “Oh honey, you shouldn’t be doing that in your condition!” At the time, I had no freaking idea what she was talking about. I told her I was fine and went back to climbing. “But what if you fall?! Think about the child.” It felt like a slap in the face- in fact my entire face became red with embarrassment. I was so shocked that I could only let out a small breath of “but I’m not …pregnant. What?” She too gave me the typical response of “oh…” and walked away. So word of advice to everyone out there: never ever congratulate someone on being pregnant because you just never know. Unless they specifically tell you they are indeed pregnant, and then respond. Even if they have a belly sticking out the size of a watermelon, I would not say shit until they bring it up. It will save you and that person awkward embarrassment just in case you’re wrong.
Ding-Ding! Alerts all to my arrival as I enter the store. Markdowns and tiny shopping carts block the entrance as I move past it all. I anxiously walk down the rows of aisles and finally reach my destination. I pick up a twelve pack of diet soda and to my surprise the Cowbell cherry vanilla ice cream that I’ve loved since a kid is on sale. I grab a carton and begin to walk back towards the front counter. I walk past the sales clerk, an older woman with cat eyeglasses, as she is in the candy aisle helping another customer. I stop at the counter and unload my supplies. I really need to get the hell out of here. I need to hurry up and buy this so no one can see my food stamps card. I know the card shouldn’t be used for luxuries like soda and ice cream, but if everyone else can do it than so can I, right? Sure enough, a little girl and her mom pull up to the counter with their basket.
“Where’d she go?” she stammers at me. “She’s around the corner helping someone” I say, trying not to make eye contact with either one of them. Now my anxiety is really starting to build up inside. Maybe I should just leave the stuff, I don’t need it anyway! Maybe this is a sign from God that I shouldn’t break my diet. An older couple comes up behind the mother. “Can we go ahead of y’all? We just need to buy his batteries.” The mother nods and waves them right up next to me. The old woman is so close to me that she can see everything that’s in my purse, which isn’t much. If I took a step back, I’d step on her toes. Fuck this I’m… and now here she comes. She waddles up toward the register and apologizes. As she begins to scan my soda the little girl says “COW BELL ICE CREAM….” I look down at her, “You know many people died from that, right?”
A million emotions and thoughts go through my head. Should I be a smartass and say I’m counting on it? Or slap her and yell at the mother for raising such a rude little brat. Or just walk out crying? No, I don’t do any of these. Instead I just say “Okay” as the others just laugh. I don’t know if their laughing at me or the little girl, but I’ve had enough. As I slide the food stamps card through the machine, it freezes. The cashier clearly has no idea what she’s doing and just asks me to swipe it again. The pressure to get out of the store is so high that I think I might break and just leave everything. I can see the older woman behind me as she looks at her husband with a “you’ve got to be kidding me” kind of look. I drop the card and bend down to pick up just as the APPROVED writing appears. I’ve never been so relived, and I feel like I just broke through a brick wall that had been stacking all around me. I grab my bag and soda case and half smiled as I walk toward the exit. I don’t look back in fear of what could be said about me.
Next time, I’ll go to Wally World.
Ding- Ding!