The Fish bowl at the Bowling Center
Several years ago, before husband took command of his first squadron, we attended a course for new commanders affectionately known as charm school.
Each major command has its own charm school. Some people, like my good friend the Cannuck, get to attend charm school in fabulous locations like Ramstein, Germany.
Our charm school was at Scott AFB, Ill. If you are not familar with Scott, it is nestled amongst cornfields on the outskirts of St. Louis, Mo.
I have nothing against the area. We have family members who live literally 10 minutes from the front gate. I grew up less than four hours south of St. Louis. So, I've been there. A lot.
But, I digress.
It was August. The mercury hovered over the 100 degree mark for the majority of the two weeks were there. And, I was five months pregnant.
So, really, it is no wonder I only retained two bits of information from a week's worth of tours, lectures and seminars for the spouses.
I remember the protocol officer making us repeat "eats to the left, drinks to the right" several times to help avoid those awkward napkin-and-bread plate-shuffles at dinners.
I also remember the wife of a three-star general telling us that we would now be living in a fish bowl. "People will know who you are and some will watch your every move. So, mind your manners."
I remember thinking this was ridiculous. No one was going to have a clue who I was.
Or care for that matter.
And, I was right for three years.
Then, husband took a little trip to the desert and the Deployment Gremlins came out in full force.
I handled the poor water pressure, the flooded yard, the broken door knob and the sick children without any breakdowns.
On the third day of a dual toddler sickfest, I finally had to make a trip to the commissary for food and medicine.
Realizing I had a very small window of opportunity with both kids asleep and my neighbor willing to come over and keep an eye on them, I opted to forego the shower I desperately needed and threw on a baseball cap and husband's sweatshirt and made a mad dash.
As I was paying for my groceries I heard "you would think the commander's wife would put a little more thought into her appearance before leaving the house."
I looked around and realized they were talking about me.
I had been up for two solid nights tending to a 3-year-old and and 23-month-old who couldn't keep anything down - or in and were miserable. I had piles of soiled clothes, towels and sheets surrounding my washer waiting their turn in the machine that took well over an hour to do one load thanks to the paltry water pressure and I am supposed to be concerned about my appearance!?
Ouch. Right there in the commissary parking lot, I had my first and only truly major deployment-related breakdown.
That little encounter stuck with me. And, while it may be a bit archaic, I try to at least appear presentable when I head out so husband doesn't have to hear comments like "hey, I saw your wife. Those are some spiffy frog pajama pants she has."
You can imagine my surprise when I took the girls bowling yesterday and after exchanging pleasantries with a fellow spouse she said to me "You sure look comfy today." A little confused, I laughed nervously and said "Lugging three little ones around, I am all about comfort."
"Yeah, you certainly do wear jeans a lot," she replied as she walked away.
Huh?
I was bowling with my kids. Are jeans not appropriate attire? More importantly why is this woman taking notes on what I wear... "a lot"?
Had she not walked off so quickly, I was about to retort with "at least today they are clean."
Each major command has its own charm school. Some people, like my good friend the Cannuck, get to attend charm school in fabulous locations like Ramstein, Germany.
Our charm school was at Scott AFB, Ill. If you are not familar with Scott, it is nestled amongst cornfields on the outskirts of St. Louis, Mo.
I have nothing against the area. We have family members who live literally 10 minutes from the front gate. I grew up less than four hours south of St. Louis. So, I've been there. A lot.
But, I digress.
It was August. The mercury hovered over the 100 degree mark for the majority of the two weeks were there. And, I was five months pregnant.
So, really, it is no wonder I only retained two bits of information from a week's worth of tours, lectures and seminars for the spouses.
I remember the protocol officer making us repeat "eats to the left, drinks to the right" several times to help avoid those awkward napkin-and-bread plate-shuffles at dinners.
I also remember the wife of a three-star general telling us that we would now be living in a fish bowl. "People will know who you are and some will watch your every move. So, mind your manners."
I remember thinking this was ridiculous. No one was going to have a clue who I was.
Or care for that matter.
And, I was right for three years.
Then, husband took a little trip to the desert and the Deployment Gremlins came out in full force.
I handled the poor water pressure, the flooded yard, the broken door knob and the sick children without any breakdowns.
On the third day of a dual toddler sickfest, I finally had to make a trip to the commissary for food and medicine.
Realizing I had a very small window of opportunity with both kids asleep and my neighbor willing to come over and keep an eye on them, I opted to forego the shower I desperately needed and threw on a baseball cap and husband's sweatshirt and made a mad dash.
As I was paying for my groceries I heard "you would think the commander's wife would put a little more thought into her appearance before leaving the house."
I looked around and realized they were talking about me.
I had been up for two solid nights tending to a 3-year-old and and 23-month-old who couldn't keep anything down - or in and were miserable. I had piles of soiled clothes, towels and sheets surrounding my washer waiting their turn in the machine that took well over an hour to do one load thanks to the paltry water pressure and I am supposed to be concerned about my appearance!?
Ouch. Right there in the commissary parking lot, I had my first and only truly major deployment-related breakdown.
That little encounter stuck with me. And, while it may be a bit archaic, I try to at least appear presentable when I head out so husband doesn't have to hear comments like "hey, I saw your wife. Those are some spiffy frog pajama pants she has."
You can imagine my surprise when I took the girls bowling yesterday and after exchanging pleasantries with a fellow spouse she said to me "You sure look comfy today." A little confused, I laughed nervously and said "Lugging three little ones around, I am all about comfort."
"Yeah, you certainly do wear jeans a lot," she replied as she walked away.
Huh?
I was bowling with my kids. Are jeans not appropriate attire? More importantly why is this woman taking notes on what I wear... "a lot"?
Had she not walked off so quickly, I was about to retort with "at least today they are clean."
Trackbacks
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2/9/2007 12:38 PM
trying to grok wrote:
Found an old post from an Air Force wife where she encountered Extreme Snottiness from other wives: As I was paying for my groceries I heard "you would think the commander's wife would put a little more thought into her... -
2/17/2007 1:33 PM
OldController wrote:
Unless you've actually experienced the snottiness of officers' wives, you can't really appreciate the intensity of it. Officers' wives are, by and large, the most stuck-up bunch of people on the planet (and jet jocks' wives are by far the worst).
How awful. What a shame that anyone is more concerned with how you dress than with getting to know who you are. I'm sure those who judge people like that must think I'm a horrible person, as I can't seem to eat ANYTHING without wearing it, and most days am sporting a stain after lunch, if not after breakfast.
I like you just fine, and you can wear dirty sweats for all I care!
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and Mac wonders why I am usually very careful about my appearance any time I go on post. Now he knows!!
Wanna know what I remember from "charm school?" How to spell advice and advise and which to use when. Gotta love it!!
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Tell me you at least thought "Bite me" as the woman was walking away.
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I remember years ago (we retired 1n 1969) when a trip to the commissary or BX almost called for a trip to the "beauty shop" for my wife. God forbid if a woman showed on base with shorts and/or curlers. There are still those kind of folks who would like to recall those days. "Bite me" seems too kind a response.
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Ugh....the fishbowl.
Wait until you have teenagers and try to explain to them why THEY need to change their clothes before leaving the house. ("But all my friends dress this way.......")
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What a load of crap! I'm sorry, but your dh's rank should have nothing to do with the way you want to dress. Ugh. How throughly annoying.
I'm with Annie, "Bite Me" would have been my first guess for your response.
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Bwahahaha. The deployment gremlins have taken over my children on this latest one. I know the feeling - though I'm always "dressed down" so the shock comes when I clean up "pretty well".
Don't you LOVE Aviano? We've got some of the cattiest, nastiest little gossips and put down artists I've run across in 10 years of marriage to hubby. Oh well, wear your jeans and be comfortable - being happy with who you are is the best way to make them mad.
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I've read this entry a few times, and every time I end up shaking my head in disbelief. People like this really do exist? I'm so sorry.
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I relate on so many levels, from the comment "bite me" to the one about having my children "change their clothes". Retirement can not come fast enough. I wish some days my "fish bowl" were covered in green slim so that no one could see in!!!!!
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makes me ever so greatful that I never had to deal with this. "Bite Me" is too tame.
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I'm not a military spouse, but I wouldn't make it. My jaw dropped with the comment about your jeans. I think I heard it snap! lol. You go girl!! (and I rarely wear jeans myself)
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