My gym membership just went up $10 for no apparent reason. This absurd increase got me thinking. First of all, I can’t even remember the last time I went to the gym. Months and months ago. So, why am I paying $29.99 for a gym membership? I’m paying $30 a month to do nothing. That’s a lot of money to do nothing. I’ve also maintained my weight pretty much since high school (always been between 115 and 120). However, during basic training I gained weight and the same thing happened in Iraq. There has to be other female soldiers who have dealt with the same thing, right? So, here is a little piece about my weight gain in Iraq.
I began to grow in Iraq. I gained muscle mass and my diet changed dramatically. My weight shifted from 120 to 135 pounds. My uniform was clinging to my thighs and my ass could have been mistaken for JLos. Because I’m vegetarian, I lived on cheese sandwiches, rice, and pizza. I was continually asked, “Why don’t you just eat salad?” I hate lettuce. I hate tomatoes. I hate onions. I hate salad.
I grew upset with the food selection at the dining facilities and decided to write a commentary for the newspaper. I asked for things like tomato sauce instead of meat sauce, vegetable Lo Mein, and possibly meatless products. Kellogg, Brown, and Root (this is the corporation our government pays millions to feed us, and whatever else the military needs them to do.) replied, “KBR does offer meatless sauces for pasta, meatless soups, cheese pizzas, vegetables…It is very helpful when patrons with special dietary desires discuss them with the government…This question is a great start!” Within a couple weeks, I noticed fake steak strips with rice dishes next to the salad bar. Even though the food was tasteless, I had won. But I kept eating cheese sandwiches.
My curvy figure began to attract attention. On a Sunday afternoon while Gonzalez and I were cleaning our room, a male soldier came to our door and handed Gonzalez a letter. She looked at me like I had been keeping a secret from her but I told her I had no idea who he was. Gonzalez and I sat on my bed like two school girls. I imagined opening up the letter, having him ask me if I would meet him at the porta potty after tower guard duty. Instead, this soldier told me that my black frame glasses and thighs caught his attention.
“Thighs?” I screamed.
“Katie, you have nice thighs.” Gonzalez said.
“I’m white. You don’t tell
this white girl she has nice thighs!”
Gonzalez wouldn‘t argue with me. After this letter we agreed to take our names off of the door.Gonzalez had at least a dozen groupies that would randomly stop by and I didn’t want anyone else telling me they liked my thighs.
(Maybe I'll start going to the gym again)
