Big Girls Drama Read Free Page A

before one of the salespeople approached me.
    â€œCan I help you?” she asked as I scanned through some clothes.
    â€œNo, thank you,” I answered smiling graciously at the middle-age woman. I thought my answer was enough to make her move on to the next patron, but she continued to linger by me.
    I hoped this was not another moment in my life where racial profiling was taking place. I really didn’t want to be that stereotypical black woman, but if I had to, I would. All I was trying to do was look for something sexy to wear for my husband.
    â€œDid you need something else?” I questioned with narrowed eyes, hoping she understood I didn’t appreciate she was still standing near me like I was going to steal something.
    â€œOh no.”
    She said this, but she still didn’t bother to budge. Now I was getting irritated.
    â€œThen why are you still hovering over me? I hope you don’t think I’m going to steal anything. I can’t help but notice I’m the only woman you are watching. Is it because I’m the only African American in this establishment?”
    â€œNo, ma’am, but . . .”
    â€œBut what?” I asked in irritation.
    â€œWe . . . we don’t carry many clothes in . . . in . . . your size,” she stuttered.
    No, this bitch didn’t. I gawked at her wondering if she was serious right now. Whether there was one or one hundred pieces of plus-size clothes in the place, I had the right to look. Besides, I could have been looking for something for someone else.
    I turned to face her full-on, linking my fingers together in front of me. I knew if I put my hands on my hips or folded my arms across my ample breasts, I would have probably been labeled the angry black woman. I hated to think this way, but per my experience, this was the exact way it was.
    â€œAnd what size is that?”
    Shifting uncomfortably, the woman knew she’d upset me. She cleared her throat as she placed a nervous hand to her chest and replied with, “Plus size, ma’am.”
    â€œSo you are calling me fat?”
    â€œNo, not at all but . . .”
    â€œBut what?”
    â€œAll I was trying to say is this store doesn’t carry many pieces of clothing in your size.”
    It was one thing to come to me thinking I was being racially profiled, but it was another to be insulted about my weight. Hell, I think I would have preferred she thought I was a thief. I was angered by her statement but couldn’t do anything but chuckle.
    â€œDo you inform all of your plus-size customers of this?”
    â€œUm . . . Well, no, not all the time. I just thought I would save you some time.”
    â€œSo you want me to leave?” I asked.
    â€œNo, that’s not what I was saying,” she stammered again.
    â€œSo you just do this to black women?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œSo you do this to white women also?”
    â€œNo. Yes, ma’am.”
    I held my hand up stopping her ignorant banter. All she was doing was stumbling around her words when I knew damn well just like she did that she was coming at me like this because she saw me as a fat black woman who probably couldn’t afford a thing in here. Maybe I was out of line for my thoughts, but this had happened to me way too many times for me to not come to this conclusion.
    â€œIs your manager here?” I asked.
    â€œNo. She’s at lunch.”
    â€œOkay, then, I will sit and wait for her to return, if that’s okay with you,” I said smirking at the nervous woman.
    â€œShe just left. I’m not sure when she’ll be back.”
    â€œThat’s okay. I have time to wait,” I said finding a seat next to the dressing room.
    I smiled flatly and watched as the scrawny brunette woman sauntered in the direction of the checkout counter where another worker was ringing up a customer. She whispered something to the coworker and both looked my way. I waved and both turned away