Flashback Friday

Since no one even flinched at my threats to post pictures of me in the Army, I'm just going to post them anyway.

Although no one was remotely interested how incredibly tough I looked, I am going to subject you all to my superhero-ness anyway.

So, first up is a Polaroid of me in the recruiting office the day I agreed to enlist, sometime in 1996. This Polaroid hung in the office for a while, along with Polaroids of the other suckers people who had made the plunge.

I was 17 years old.

I know that somewhere out there a picture of me exists where I'm actually raising my hand in front of the American flag.

I can't find that picture and I'm pissed off about it. My hair was down to my ass, and my mom and uncle were smiling in the background as they watched me swear to defend my country.

It was February 10, 1997. And I was still 17 years old.

The next day, I went to the airport with a few other recruits. I had spent the night in Denver, Colorado, and my mom was supposed to meet me at the airport to say good bye.

It came time to board the plane, and I was trying to be strong but she hadn't shown up yet. I was sitting in my seat staring out at the runway when the pilot called my name and asked me to de-board the plane.

I had no idea what was going on, but sort of sleepwalked back down the tunnel. My mom was standing at the door at the end. Bawling. I ran to her, hugged her and let loose the tears that I could not stop.

Through snot and tears and snobs, she managed to relay that she was horribly backed up in traffic and had run through the airport crying, demanding that they let her say good bye to her daughter.

The plane waited.

We hugged tight and hard for as long as we could, and then I got back on that plane. I cried as silently as I could as I stared out the window the entire flight.

The next thing I remember was arriving at boot camp and going through all of the in processing. The drill sergeants were intimidating, but everything was just sort of a blur for me.

That night, we were able to make a phone call. We all had to stand in line for a pay phone. It was my turn. As soon as I heard my mother's voice, I cried so hard I couldn't breathe. I vaguely remembered her asking me if I was okay, and I kept telling her I was. I was okay. I just couldn't stop crying.

This isn't the direction this post was supposed to take. I was going to write about all the shenanigans and fun times that I did have. But now, reliving the first days, I'm really getting choked up about the whole thing.

It really wasn't bad. There were so many intimidating things, and no one was ever sure what was going to happen next. But that's the idea. That's what we were supposed to get through.

I guess I'll just get to the pictures now to lighten things up.

Oh! But funny thing: The first night. Showers. Public showers with tons of girls who all needed a turn and we didn't have much time.

I walk into the shower with my Victoria's Secret Pear Body Wash and my razor, Apricot Scrub for my face, and two bottles of Pantene - shampoo & conditioner. I started shaving my legs and the glares I got were vicious. I learned. Note to self: Don't take up shower time primping.

And, when you are told not to bring makeup to boot camp, that includes water proof mascara.

It's crazy to assume that the reason they said "No makeup" was not because they were "worried your mascara would run in the rain". And it's crazy to assume that if you brought "waterproof mascara" they would say "Oh, in that case...as long as it doesn't run..."

I'm not sayin' I did think that. And I'm not sayin' I didn't think that. I'm just sayin' is all...

Anyhoo-

My bunk mate ended up having some medical issues and was on the medical floor all day every day. Somehow, she managed to go to a little store during her days there and purchase disposable cameras for me.

Please keep in mind. This was total contraband. She would smuggle the cameras to me and I would hide them in the ceiling tiles. I overpaid for the cameras, to offset "her risk" {yeah- I got played. scoff}.

When I was fairly certain that there were no drill sergeants lurking around a corner, I would pull them out and quickly have people snap pictures.

Some days I would put the camera in my sports bra for the day. If I was feeling like I hadn't had a death sentence in a while, I would pull it out on the range {where you fire rifles all day}.

The pictures above and below are pictures that were taken during a rifle range day.

Craziness. I'm really not sure where my balls came from back then. When we went to the range, the inspections {shake downs} that we had to go through to get off the range were pretty comprehensive. I have absolutely no idea how my camera was never discovered.

{Josh calls this picture the one where "I'm humping my sea bag". Bastard. I like this picture.}

Although I was totally breaking the rules and risking getting everyone into serious trouble, I am so glad a thousand times over that I have these pictures. They are priceless to me.

Somewhere there is also a picture of me laying on my bunk reading mail. It is totally staged, but I love it. It's another one I can't find right now. It was staged for my mom.

She sent me a letter everyday that I was in basic training. Some days it was just a news article with a Sharpie 'heart' followed by 'Mom'. Most days it was updates of everything going on at home and words encouraging me.

Once she sent me chapstick because I told her during a phone call that our marches in the sun were so long, and my Kevlar {helmet} only blocked the sun from the top half of my face, so my lips were so sunburned they had blisters.

My sister sent me Coolwater ads with good looking half dressed men.

Every night we would all sit on bleachers while the drill sergeants called out names of the people that had mail. Ninety nine percent of the time, my name was called. I think there were a couple of occasions when it wasn't, but the next day there would be two envelopes for me indicating a backup with the mail. It felt good. To be thought of everyday.

Being in the Army was a little hard sometimes, but I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. It was single-handedly the best decision I ever made.

Okay. Now back to your regularly scheduled program.