If you've known or read me long enough, you'll have picked up on the term Military Issue Combat Boots at least once, but probably more than that. And there's a reason for that. It's because my only shoes for seven years were those military issue combat boots that I'm always name dropping. The one's I've featured in my teen self portraits up there from age 15 - 18. I'll not only be talking about those boots, but also my dubious (or fabulous?) fashion choices that are illustrated above, plus my current swim suit woes. Let's dive in, shall we? And here they are! I know it looks like I'm pimpin' out Kiwi, but it's the only shoe polish that was sold, so is what I purchased. These boots needed some major love, but we'll get to that. I always call them military issue combat boots, because that's exactly what they are. I did not go to an Army Surplus store to purchase them. They're my dad's, issued to him for Marine Boot Camp at Twentynine Palms in 1970. See? They're even stamped with his name inside. They've never seen combat, but I don't think boot camp boots is a thing, right? He was also issued another pair, without the name, right before he left, which I too wore, but eh... they're just not the same. Dad was drafted and the only branch accepting people at that moment were the Marine Reserves, so that's who he signed on with. Did his stint with boot camp, was honourably discharged, and came home. He worked on Amtracs (amphibious assault vehicles), which I think is beyond cool. So, how did I acquire them? I found them buried deep in his closet, said, "Oh, awesome!!" and took them. He didn't care. Well, he was conflicted. He wanted all sons and so is partly excited when his daughters like guy things, but then he's slightly sad because we're probably not as girly as we should be? Really, it's just me, as I'm the one learning about wars and battles and wanting to wear combat boots and drive a tank. The Sisters' only true "guy" thing (which isn't, as girls can be this too and I don't count camping or fishing as that's par for the course with lots of girls here) is being mechanicy. Dad taught us how to work on cars. Sometimes he's all "Shootchyeh you should know this stuff!" and other times it's like he feels weird about it, like it's not dainty enough. Perhaps he's worried that this is why we're not married yet? Though we try to tell him that we're not married yet, simply because we're not. We're not really worried about it. I'm glad he taught us that because it's nice not depending upon a man to check the pressure in our tires, check fluids, windshield wipers, changing a flat, testing/charging/changing a battery, jumpstarting, etc. So many girls my age don't know even those basic things. I did change a flat with a crazy jack in that top right outfit on the red International pickup truck back in high school. Changing the flat was no problem, it was the jack, and I conscripted a popular girl to help while I laid under the truck until it connected. It was a funny story. She was the last one in the parking lot so I forced her. All the faculty and staff were gone already too and there were no mobiles at this time. I was not going to be stranded and no one could have walked that distance from my school to my house. Also, everyone had left, because it took me forever to get the spare undone from the bed of the truck. Dad had all manner of things in his truck from fishing line to shovels and pick axes (wouldn't be allowed into a school now, right?), but not a single damn wrench to undo the bolt holding it in. I had to search every nook and cranny of that really packed truck until I found wire strippers. It was all I had that would do the job. So, she didn't want to get dirty, though the crank shaft wasn't, so I found her some work gloves... which were slightly dirty. She whined the entire time, though I was the one mainly cranking and holding the jack steady, getting all dirty under the truck. Told her she was a whiney baby when it was all over. Whatever. Anyways. So, yeah, he was kind of happy that I wanted to wear them (also kind of not, he's complicated). He was only upset when they weren't all shined up to Marine specs. Which I never once polished them, mainly because all our paste had dried up probably in 1978 and he wasn't willing to purchase more. Mom stole them once from me. She hated that I wore them because "proper ladies don't wear such things." Do I look like a proper lady from the 1950's up there to any of y'all? Yeah, I didn't think so. She also stole some of my band T-shirts and cassette tapes. I couldn't find them anywhere, but knew she'd taken them, because that's how she rolls. "I know you took all of that stuff," while she batted seemingly innocent doe eyes at me. "Those boots are dad's from the Marines, so you'd better not have thrown them out or he'll be pissed." The next day they were back in my room and she sulked for a week. So, yes, I started wearing them at the end of 8th grade and didn't really stop until my early twenties when I found a used pair of black high top converse at the thrift store. They were easier to get on and off (because I was forever coming and going from the house and wanting to take my shoes off as soon as I came in the house), and they ended up being forgotten. Later being put back into dad's closet and being shoved to the back again. I don't know why, but recently I had been thinking a lot about those boots. Would they still fit? Would I still find them comfortable? I should check and see. I retrieved both pairs from dad's closet and a pair of his navy men's dress socks and tried them on with the paltry laces they had. This pair had wide black cotton laces that the cats at eaten off so would only lace up to the ankle. The other had weird leather laces shoved inside ready to be laced in, but hadn't. I laced one of the older pair (the one's pictured) with the leather laces and reached my hand in to straighten the tongue and came out with a dirty old pair of navy men's dress socks. "Hey! These are what I was looking for!" Apparently, I'd worn them, taken them off, shoved the socks in and never went back to them. Put the (new, clean) socks on, slipped my right foot inside, laced it up, stood up and sighed. "I have missed you my old friends." It was perfect. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed them. They fit perfectly, which is amazing because I never got them wet and wore them around to shape to my feet like you're supposed to do. Apparently dad's shape was a good fit for me from the get go? That, or, and I just wore the hell out of them, so there's also that. They were in really bad shape. They were almost brown from all the wear and tear. I went out and purchased a small tin of polishing paste and some rounded cotton laces. Spent a good amount of time and elbow grease working the paste in and polishing them all up. They actually look a million times better, though they are certainly far from perfect, as you can tell from the close up and the toes. See, I'm a big kneeler. That's how I sit comfortably, apparently in yoga it's called Thunderbolt. Yeah, that's my thing, man. Thunderbolt. I can squat too, but I prefer kneeling, so the toes of those boots met with a lot of concrete, and various types of flooring over the years. And I have already worn them, once, just the other day. It was fabulously wonderful! I just have to remember to tuck the laces into the top and pitch them into my closet or a cat will eat these laces too. I do think I've gotten a tad better than during my teen years. Or let's hope! So what about those outfits up there? Jeans and T-shirts were my preferred go-to for clothing. Graphic tees whether they had something to do with a band or not. I did have one about Shakespeare, one about Coffee Saved Our Marriage, which was given, obviously to my parents, but my mom never wore it, so I took it. One from Slovakia given to my dad who didn't wear it because he hates T-shirts, and one that said Miss Congeniality from the film, among many others like the Nine Inch Nails one pictured and one from Rammstein's Sehnsucht album. By my early twenties they were plain T-shirts that looked like the 70s and in green if I could get it. Seriously. Somehow the shape of the neckline and cut of the shirt (and possibly my big boobs) made me look like my aunt and mother in the 70s and The Sister would always say, "Oh! You look like the 70s! I love it!" I did too honestly, but that style of shirt is apparently no longer in fashion because I can't find them. If my hair wasn't long and wooly with me putting random braids in it, then I'd braid it up on top of my hair. I also wore little girls Sunday service hats from the 1950s. Or one of my grandmothers that was just a black circle like a crown in velvet with the mesh over the top and coming down the front. It was like I was channeling Lydia from Beetlejuice and Maude from Harold and Maude. That is when I wasn't in my "goth" phase. Which was merely continuing my extreme cat eye eyeliner and just dying my hair black and sometimes wearing all black, but mainly I had black hair, cat eye makeup and T-shirt and jeans. But I think people noticed to black boots more and it was too much black and well, no one was doing that in my school and it unnerved people. I probably looked more Hollywood Witch (though probably less polished) than Goth. But The Sister will make fun of me and call me Drakkar Noir because of the flashbacks when Jimmy from Raising Hope goes through his goth phase and his family is afraid of him. She'll laugh and say "Oh that's you! You were so scary!" I was only scary because I have resting bitch face naturally and I was also kind of pissed off most of the time, because... teenager. I just wasn't having normal resting bitch face with pissy emotions while wearing pink frilly clothes. It is a funny episode and it's cute to see that Sabrina likes him so much so dresses like him and they find out later. But yeah, no pancake make-up, no weird drawings in black eyeliner on my face, no studs or spikes or leather or netting or any other weird and stupid things. I was only scary because Sarah has always been scary and people don't like her. I could have been dressed in a pink frilly dress and people would still have been scared of me. But, while I wore that black flouncy 70s dress shirt of my moms and black shirts a lot that year, the other half of the time I looked more or less like the proceeding illustration of me at 15, except with the shoulder length black hair. Did have a some green stripes, but only for a month or so. The next year things got weird. I cobbled together looks from 311, via their self-titled album, and that of Bjork. I still did cat eye, but would also do this over exaggerated black eye-liner look par 311. And I found those stick on earrings for cheap someplace, and had liked that Bjork had sparkles under her eyes, so I did that too, which I've illustrated both things in my age 17 illustration up there (bottom left). As well as my hair braided up onto my head. By 18, I was back to normal cat eye eyeliner, graphic and plain T-shirts, jeans, and those fab boots. I'd also gone into a salon for a pixie cut. The lady butchered my hair. No literally. There were holes everywhere that were cut so short. It wasn't a hair cut anyone would have. I needed this buzzed to be all the same. I went to dad's barber shop. A rather foreboding place tucked down an alley of a strip mall run by old white men. It's the only one I knew of, so that's where I was going. That day I was wearing the skirt I'd illustrated in age 17, my boots, and some T-shirt. I was intimidated by these holier than thou old scary men, but I hitched up my big girl panties, reminded myself I was wearing Marine boots and wouldn't let them scare me. I went in and asked for a buzz cut to even all this mess out. You could tell from the get go that they found me beneath them and they were going to mess with me. Figuring that the simple little girl didn't know what she'd want and they'd be happy to see her shed big fat tears of anguish when all her hair was gone. Seriously? Couldn't they see the clothes I was wearing or that my hair was already really short and a fiasco? It'd been different if I'd come in with long, luscious tresses. I don't know. So, I sat in the chair and he buzzed my hair even and it was about a quarter of an inch that I was left with. He swiveled me around to the mirror and then held up a mirror in the back. I could see him, in the larger mirror, smirking his great triumph; his satisfied leer hoping I'd start crying any minute. I ran my hands over my head and said, "Thanks. It's exactly what I wanted." His face turned sour quicker than sucking on a lemon. Which is when I knew for certain he'd been hoping that what, this would ruin my life for ever? I slammed my eight bucks on the counter as I purposefully and proudly stomped out of his establishment never to dark his door again. And later I tried to bleach my dark hair so I could put a grey, old lady rinse on it (because I've wanted grey hair since I was three or four), but the hair stylist could only lighten it to orange, but that was by the time my buzz had grown out into a pixie. Buzzed it off again with dog clippers after that and my first Uni ID card had me with buzzed hair. I didn't cry when the woman butchered my hair. It was bad, but it's just hair, which is why I said, "Well, time to go full buzz then." Which I did get my hair done recently. Wanted the sides and back shaved because it's fucking hot here for hair. I feel like Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite a lot. Ya know where he shaves all his hair off because it was just too hot. I also wanted designs cut in. I have wanted that since I saw those guys in the late 80s/early 90s with high flat tops and designs buzzed in. She, uh... got a little overjoyed at the prospect and well, everything's too short. I had to even part my hair on the opposite side, because the other was really short. She did a fine job for the hair style she liked, but it's not what I asked for or wanted. I got my sides and back shaved and go faster stripes, but eh... it was free (The Sister paid. Saying I should get it professionally done, instead of doing it myself) and it's just hair. It'll grow out. Plus it's not all that bad and it's a lot cooler, temperature wise, though everyone does think it looks cool when they see me. And speaking of cooler and which brings to my final point here in this post. My current swim suit is a two piece, but are those called takini's? It's bottoms and then a long top that's supposed come down to the hips and stay. It's old, the elastic in the bottoms waistband are shot and it's all stretched out. Besides the fact that once in the pool I have to tuck all that extra material of the top into the leg portions of my swim bottoms so I can actually swim around like the otter than I am (no really I swim under water and swim on my back underwater too like an otter - all sorts of twists and turns), or else all that material is lifting up showing my entire rib and stomach area and flailing around in my face and I can't see.
Also, now that it's so old, the elastic in the straps are shot. The Sister will tighten them as much as possible, but by the next time I go swimming, they're no longer tight and I get in the pool and dive in and can't swim because my right boob is trying to free itself from the top and I have to hold my top in place, surface and get her to tighten the straps again. It is a pain. And boobs are a pain in the first place, right? I know they're all different, but mine are heavy and make my bra dig into my shoulders and then in the water, if they're not harnessed in properly they'd be floating in my face. It's weird and kind of weirds me out. And yes, I do find them rather bothersome, to say the least. I'm sure some of you will know exactly what I'm talking about. Yet, it doesn't bother me at all that my backside is so buoyant. I won't drown really. I can lay on my back without a raft. I can just hover in the water with everything submerged but the tops of my shoulders. But, my thighs are powerful enough that I can swim down to the bottom and force myself to stay down, or turn over and stay down and look up through the water to the sky, which I like doing. If I couldn't swim underwater because of my butt, I'd be very upset. Anyway, enough about the physics of this fat girl swimming, back the the suit woes. The Sister said she'd buy me a new suit. I decided I wanted a fat girl two piece, or the nicer term is that of a modest two piece. They don't sell plus sizes in our store, so we had to measure me and hope for the best when ordering online. So, this arrived and the bottoms were a little big and the top was pretty perfect except it was a tiny bit too snug around the ribcage. I decided to up the top one size and down the bottoms by one and things would be fine, right? Returned these to the store and The Sister ordered the new sizes and they arrived two days ago. The bottoms fit perfectly. The top? It said 3X, but it felt like it was meant for a woman who was weilding triple E's instead of my D's (or are they at barely D's again? Who can tell with boobs). What was the deal?! I wiggled out of it and tightened the shoulder straps all the way, perhaps that was the problem. Put it back on and no, I could have shoved the entirety of The Sister into all that space. *sigh* I checked the actual tag inside, as opposed to the sales tag. They only went up to a 4X and I couldn't imagine this being any smaller than a 5, but the inside tag did indeed say 3X. I doubt that my boobs would have popped out of the suit, but I would have been suffocated by the top while swimming from the way it was fitting, I'm sure. Went to their site to snag the above photo (because isn't that a gorgeous print and colour? Very 1960s!) and they're stating that their Plus Size swim wear is, wait I'll find their exact quote. "The best fitting suits, period." Umm... no, their not. Your tops are far from perfect for this body which I'm sure I can't be the only bigger gal having troubles. I will say, they did fit better than anything I tried on at Walmart and forget Target having anything really in my size in the store. So... BUT! The 2X will arrive again soonish (a week or so?) and then my suit will finally be complete. I think it's because I haven't had enough coffee (started this post yesterday) because that line kind of makes me sound like a mad scientist which makes me happy. Feel like their should be some mad scientist laughter involved. Mwhahahahah! There. That's better.
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AuthorA girl from South Mississippi who finds herself in exploration. Archives
November 2019
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