This morning I opened my email to be met with the usual barrage of erectile dysfunction and penile enlargement solicitations. Since I am not the proud owner of a phallus, I promptly deleted those and moved on to find my credit card payment had posted, my library books are nearly due and that I have come into $25,000,000 if I simply take the time contact what I’m sure is a wonderfully trustworthy man somewhere deep in Namibia. Forgive me Mutumbo, but it seems I don’t have a need in my life currently for your $25,000,000. I watch Dateline. I know how you roll. As I skimmed further I found a plea from a friend stranded in Europe and desperately in need of my credit card number so that she and her family could purchase tickets for a safe return to the US. They may have had me too had I not spoken to her yesterday where she was safely planted at work in Philadelphia. Though email scoundrels, might I make a suggestion? Check your grammar before sending me a desperate plea from one of my dear friends for I can assure you, my friends do not dangle participles. As I neared the bottom of the page and was about to delete incredible deals awaiting me on a low-rate mortgage, discount breast implants and a hot tub, something caught my eye: The U.S. Army Needs Soldiers Like You. Really? I wouldn’t be so sure about that.
That email got my bizarre little mind churning….what if? What if suddenly, the U.S. Military was so desperate that they began recruiting chubby 40-something moms from Middle America? Don’t laugh, it could happen. Ok, under really, really dire circumstances, like the kind of dire circumstances when you’ve called every man in the US and not one male under the age of 90 answered his phone. But in the event that things do come to this point, I’d like to suggest a few changes that will need to be put in place before I sign on officially.
1. Lose that drab green and sand tan. No one looks good in those colors. No one. I understand that the point of camo is to disguise one in battle so that’s why I recommend we opt for black. It’s slimming and would make us all look virtually invisible in dark spaces. We’d be like a platoon of chubby – yet fashionable – ninjas or maybe beatniks. Regardless, if it’s good enough for ninjas, it’s good enough for the military.
2. About those overly aggressive screaming drill sergeants, I’m afraid they will have to go. I personally do not respond favorably to hostility being lobbed in my general direction at high volume. I assume my numerous other chubby 40-something female recruits will feel the same as well. I suggest that drill sergeants begin using positive reinforcement as well as “please” and “thanks.” Instead of “Drop and give me 50 you brainless moron!” We’ll hear something more like this: “Well good afternoon cadet. If you wouldn’t mind, could you please perform 20 push-ups at this time? And might I say, your thighs seem to be firming up nicely. Thank you.” Much more pleasant wouldn’t you agree?
3. And then there is the whole gun issue. I don’t allow my Midget to play with guns. I find them repulsive. However, after a year in day care, he has been sucked totally into little boy land and will have a shoot out at a moments notice-though he does respect my hatred enough to call them ‘spouters’ in my presence and claims he is only shooting water. Full disclosure – I did once go to a shooting range and fully enjoyed myself, but was young and foolish then and my judgment was certainly skewed. I propose that when I enter the military, we just do away with the whole firearm thing. Let’s work on talking things out. I’m quite certain that if we just lay down arms and have a good solid gabfest with the Taliban, perhaps on a deck surrounded by wisteria with a nice bottle of merlot, things will be ironed out in no time.
4. Weight requirements. There will be none. Enough said.
5. Physical training will no longer be crawling through the mud with one’s elbows. Rather, I propose that we train in climate controlled areas complete with a cute young recruits delivering chilled water (with lemon of course) to us as we stroll along on our treadmills while watching Dr. Oz. We’ll meet the same end in physical fitness so why not do it in a civilized manner.
So, Uncle Sam, if you do in fact want a few soldiers like me, these are the changes that will have to be made. Reasonable? I think so. I know my people and I can say without a doubt that clad in our sleek black ensembles, surrounded by positive vibes with wine in hand, we will have achieved world peace in time to get the kids to bed and catch the newest episode of Sister Wives. Uncle Sam, I’m awaiting your call. But until then, I see I just got another email from Sister Carol at the Saint Jude Society, “We’re Waiting For You.” Looks like I’m going to need to make some changes to the nunnery…