Looks, or the lack thereof...

It has recently been brought to my attention that I am not a "looker"any more. What exactly constitutes a looker? Does the fact that someone is not supermodel material make them any less valuable an addition to the human race? In my defense, I submit that I have gained weight, and I that I dress for practicality and affordability more than I do for any sort of va-va-voom factor.

I admit that in the years following the births of my children and the moving all over the country that being an army wife entails, my jeans and I developed an unhealthy attachment that turned mutually exclusive. It really is easier to chase after kids and chauffeur everyone around while not being in stilettos.

I have no problem with women that manage to look fabulous at all times, but I thought we were leaving the fifties era sitcom mothers and wives in the past where they belong. Instead, I find myself asking exactly what was it that the feminist movement actually accomplished?

Here we are in 2009, and women still get paid less than men in the same jobs, we still have no paid maternity leave, there are still numerous career fields where women are thought to be handicapped by their gender if they are even seen at all, and women are still at the mercy of designers who have no concept of equating the runway to real life.

I cannot make other people accept me, or even value me, but what I can do is to make sure that their negativity does not damage my self-worth. I cannot say what size I will be at this time next year; but I can say that I will love myself even if the figure looking back at me in the mirror is not svelte, because I will have tried my best to improve myself, for myself, and myself alone.

Haircuts and Bastions of Testosterone

Today marked the first haircut my oldest son needed since his dad left. We went to the usual place we get his hair cut.

The place is called SportClips and it's kind of Foot Locker meets the salon for the macho set. Only the barbers all have naturally occurring estrogen.

My son loves it; and getting his hair cut here is comforting to him. Now if only I could remember what size clippers his dad recommends...

Above are some pictures. Does your town have a SportClips or something like it?

Frustration

What exactly is it about distance in a military marriage that sometimes makes people forget that people often say things out of sheer hurt and frustration that they don't mean?

I am not talking about anything as dangerous as a threat of suicide or homicide, but just something to the effect of mentioning wanting a drink...I said this to my husband tonight, after a very long and frustrating day with the kids. He told me he was worried. That one statement he made really got under my skin. To me, it implied I wasn't shouldering my responsibilities accurately, that it was this failure that caused him to worry. I guess it put me on the defensive because I have been doing everything I can to keep him from worrying and he keeps worrying.

My kids are angry and frustrated that their dad is gone; especially my oldest son who is nine. My mother, who lives with me and is a raging, out-of-control diabetic who can't be trusted to do what she is supposed to do to keep herself healthy without someone supervising her constantly, keeps telling me she won't live long enough to see him again.

In this circus of the absurd, I am the damn ringmaster!

I sometimes wish I could be like one of those stupid sitcom wives from days of yore; you know, the kind that have a picture perfect house, with well-behaved kids. One that can spend all day cooking and still look like she stepped off a magazine cover when her husband gets home...

I wish I could be more than the target of everybody's rage, hurt, and frustration because he is not here.

It's not my fault; he didn't ask for these orders, and I certainly did not want them either...

The Gulf of Solitude

Saying goodbye, as the song says, is never an easy thing. This is especially true when you have become accustomed to certain constants in your life that do not change; these become anchors in an otherwise tempestous life. For me, it was the journey of becoming a wife and mother that became my routine. I became more and more involved in supporting my husband and his career and my children. The days passed by, and I found myself getting comfortable in my life...it seems to be the law of nature that such constancy is never destined to endure for long. The Army came knocking, and a hole was blown right through the middle of my bliss.

My husband has had to PCS for a while, and this has forced me to double my role. This is not unusual for an Army wife; it's part of the job.

That I miss him and long for him to be here is not the hardest thing to imagine; the most frightening thing is discovering that he and my kids have become such a part of me that somehow I have lost my sense of self. I find myself forced to become independent once more and I am frightened, because all the interests I once cultivated and all the things that once defined me have since become a barren wasteland.

I have decided to try to awaken who and what I once was; I have started this blog in an effort to grant this process some expediency and legitimacy.