Haute Couture the polyester way

We had a day off today, so of course we went shopping. Where? Saks? Macy's? J. Crew, perhaps? Uh, not exactly. Gluttons for punishment as usual, we hit the clothing sales store on post to pick up more uniforms-I just can't get enough of Army fashion, lovely as it is. However, it's required, like about everything else I do these days. So, we don't complain and just do it. I had to buy my Class A uniform today, which is basically the green suit that you see Army folk wearing. The pants that supposedly fit me were super baggy in the hips and the rear end, but apparently everybody just gets them taken in anyway. So I'm checking my oh-so-hot green woolen self out in the three-way mirror and I said, "Geez, these are huge!" out loud, prompting my friend C. to pop out of her dressing room and ask in disbelief, "Uh, did you just say that those were cute?" Uh, no, I'm pretty clear on the fact that there's nothing cute about this whole getup. In fact, I'm pretty sure that cute doesn't factor into the Army's uniform regulations. In fact, the single OBC girls and I have decided that the Army has successfully managed to come up with uniforms that camoflauge any shred of cute that we were previously capable of mustering up. Case in point: the camoflauge get-ups, more commonly known as "battle dress uniforms" or BDUs. A couple of years ago, these babies had waist take up tabs, so you could put a little shape in them, say, if you have a waist like most of we girls do. This lovely feature was apparently deemed too sexy by the Army and done away with. Trust me, the Army had nothing to worry about: anyone wearing this uniform is in absolutely no danger whatsoever of looking anything approaching sexy, which my friend and fellow OBC-er A. loves to emphasize by sarcastically yelling "I look hot!" into the three-way mirror at the clothing sales store while we punish ourselves by trying on more and more uniforms instead of just throwing in the towel and hitting Banana Republic on a Saturday afternoon like most normal twenty-something girls would do. Which brings me to the mother of all Army-related fashion offenses, better known as BCGs. That's right: Birth Control Glasses, for those of you not familiar with these lovely specs. Just to paint a picture in case you don't know what I'm talking about, they are those heinous Army-issue eyeglasses with brown plastic frames and pancake-sized square lenses. Yeah, those are BCGs. People who need glasses of any sort are actually required to wear them during field training. Unfortunately, my glasses-wearing friend A. found this out the other day. This is seriously, really horrible news for any girl, especially a single girl because it is so hard to look at these glasses and not laugh. They are about the most comical thing ever...I know, I know they were fashionable in 1968, but this is ridiculous! To make matters worse, she was asking our instructor, Seargent R., if wearing the BCGs were, you know, a required thing, and if there was any way she could get out of it, or wear her own glasses, or whatever. Seargent R. thinks for a second and says, "Well, Lieutenant, look on the bright side: if some guy falls in love with you while you're wearing those, then you know it's for real." Great, sir. That's just great.