"I used to..."

I can't seem to take my eyes off them.

These ladies come into the store about twice a week and usually on Tuesdays.  I watch them as they walk around, as they put things into their cart, and as they go through checkout.  It isn't just an intense fascination, it is sheer familiarity.

I can feel my skirt, like phantom pains for a lost limb, swishing around my ankles.  I can feel my hair reaching all the way to my hips.  I can see me staring at myself like I was a freak show, like other people used to stare at me. 

I was working with a new department; training to open in the mornings, and the guy who was training me noticed how I looked.  I "apologized" saying something to the effect of "I used to look like that."
His face changed drastically.  First he was surprised, then incredulous, then he looked me over and his face said he didn't believe me.
I had to laugh.  Yes, I am a far cry from that; now.  But I am telling the truth.

He asked me: "What faith is that?"
I hesitated and he waited.
"I would not call it a faith, more like organized religion..." I fumbled trying to express something cognizant in a nutshell of a moment. 
"It is an extreme, conservative branch of evangelical fundamentalism."
He nodded. 
I asked if he had heard of "patriarchy" or "quiverful." 
He nodded with a pretty sure face.  Then he said: "They are good people."
I looked at him and wondered, and asked how he meant.
He said: "Well, the are always nice and their kids are well behaved and respectful...."
He turned and saw my face and that I was about to correct him and he said: "Well, at least in public."
I coughed a little and said something about being forced to with shame and discipline, and he though about that for a while.

By then they were gone from the store, and we didn't talk about it anymore.