Confessions

What’s the most embarrassing thing you haven’t said in print?

Okay. In the seventh grade — well, it actually started in second grade — I had a really bad problem with stealing things. But I would only steal from people I knew, because stealing from stores was too scary. That meant big trouble. But if I could steal from people I knew, somehow I felt like I wouldn’t get caught, or like it was fine. It started with a chopstick from my friend Dana in second grade.

How far did this go?

The most embarrassing moment was when I got caught in seventh grade. I stole my friend Alexis’s lacy bra because I wasn’t allowed to have a lacy bra yet. And then I wore it to school the very next day. You could see the lace through my shirt. So in chorus class, a whole group of girls said, Um, is that Alexis’s bra? And I turned beet red and said no.

What made you think you could get away with stealing a bra that you were going to wear?

I don’t know, and I wasn’t good at it. It’s not like I was stealthy or smart. I would steal my friends’ really nice T-shirts in high school.

You’re about to say you don’t do this anymore?

Except — full disclosure — I did basically get let go from two consignment stores here in town because I maybe took a sweater or two.

What did you like about it?

I think I wanted things that weren’t mine. And I would say that maybe that motivation is still there. But I’ve learned how to curb it.

So you still want things that aren’t yours — as we all do?

Yes, but we have to be realistic about ourselves. As I’ve aged, I’ve realized this is not a good look. It’s not good for your community or your friendships. You should just stick to what you have and be a happy bunny.

Another confession: a couple of years ago, I was at Sprouts picking something up after work. I looked down on the floor and saw cheetah-print underwear. I thought, Well, that’s bizarre, kicked it to the side, and kept walking. Then I’m in front of the yogurt and there’s a black lacy thong on the floor. And I thought — this looks kind of like my underwear. And that cheetah one looked a little bit like mine, too.

No…

I looked down at my sweater and realized it had collected all of my underwear from the laundry basket and was just dripping undies all over Sprouts. I did a mad dash to figure out how many had fallen. I collected four pairs — and found one in the parking lot.

Did anyone say anything?

No one said a word. Everyone was avoiding eye contact so hard. You know that thing where you just do not want to look at the person? That’s what it was.

Did you get them all?

I actually left one. It was too close to a gentleman’s feet, and reaching down to pick it up in that moment felt like all of my dignity — gone. So I decided that was lost.

An underwear too far.

That was too far.