I am the former Kara Vandermeille. The morning I stepped off the bus and the big prison gate closed with a bang I knew my life would be different forever. It was 1999 and at age 33, it was my first time in lock-up. Even though it was a minimum security penetentiary it was very scary for me. I had been living in Indiana and had only recently moved to Florida where I was incarcerated.
I remember walking down the sidewalk toward a big, four-story, red brick building where women in bright blue uniforms were looking out the windows. "Hey big calf girl," someone shouted, 'Oooh, look at them muscle legs on her," another screamed. They were obviously talking about me. My calves are large and diamond-shaped and extremely muscular and have always been an object of conversation. This was the first time I had heard women publicly comment on my legs and I felt very awkward as I entered the building under the stares of so many female prisoners.