Staying Fit on a Soap Box

If you've come to hear my resolutions of losing some thigh weight before my next Disney trip, you may be disappointed. Not going there-- not when my laundry room is still heaving and I'm trying to find my way off our family white board that is no longer white (help).

I attended a squadron function last night. I've only attended a handful in our entire time in the military, but can tell you that only TWO times did I come home feeling like I would want to go to another.

We're enlisted folk, and regardless that my husband is a Watch Supervisor and has a higher enlisted rank, we are still enlisted and that's pond scum in most officer's eyes.
The officers my husband works with/for are arrogant college frat boys (to be perfectly frank) and the wives... wow. I was stunned hearing the superficial conversation carried out by one perky little blond, "Oh, that's such a cute bolero! You always have the cutest little boleros...Oh! (as she looks down at another woman's legs) have you been tanning? (and at another's feet) I love your shoes!"
wow.

Last night's ordeal was a chili cook off and auction, organized and flocked to by many of the officer's wives and few enlisted people (first clue that I am not the only one who feels the discrimination). In a sea of over scheduling, I swam through everything that we had to accomplish first eagerly anticipating the night out and babbled on to my husband about how I would see a couple of ladies again that I had enjoyed meeting at the Christmas party (get out much? no).

There were four raffle prizes-- all but one were baskets full of alcohol. I put in my tickets for the travel basket (and checked all night-- it was the least filled basket up until Joe Show off bought about forty tickets). Most of the auction items were alcohol related as well and since we were one of two couples who don't drink, we were limited to the things we might be interested in winning-- which is ok, it gave me more money to focus on fewer items (at least that's what I was telling myself).

But I don't know who I was kidding-- there is no possibility in winning anything at these things.

The arrogance in the room and the need to one-up each other nearly smothered the small group of enlisted wives who just watched everything go ridiculously high.

You think I'm making it up?

One overnight babysitting service went for $290.00.
I'm in the wrong business, I babysit 24/7 and don't get paid jack.

There was a dinner for 6 with wine and champagne AND babysitting. The two women I was sitting with decided we could go in on it together and let the third lady have all the drink-- we just wanted the dinner without someone on our laps.
I stopped paying attention when the bidding got up to $600.00.

There's a recession? Are you sure?

So last night, carrying nothing more but overtired kids and a half-full crock pot of chili I reminded my husband how we don't fit in with his squadron. Never have. When he was in basic training, his peers were single or newly weds. We were already a family and had obligations they couldn't understand.
That lead to realizing we don't fit in with the parent cliques at the kids' schools, the groups of new parents at church or the older friends whose children have grown.

We don't fit in with most of the world.
I think we're nerds.
We like to stay home with our kids. We fit in there.
We like to have friends over (friends who like nerds) and we're LOVING the new Beatles Rockband that we're playing with our equally nerdy kids (you get extra points for harmonizing! I can harmonize!)

Maybe I don't fit in with Miss Perky Officer Wife, but I promise you when I see you that I won't comment on your shoes or your new haircut as much as I will ask how your mom is doing or what came of your recent blood work, and that's a nerdiness my conscience and wallet can live with.