there are many unavoidable truths about being a military wife. like the fact that the military likes to call us "dependents." i had a real problem with that term when LH and i first got married. i wasn't dependent on him for anything; i made enough money to live on my own if i had to, so why did the military have to call me a dependent? even after LH explained to me that the military phrases it that way because i am dependent on him for my military status and benefits, i still wasn't happy with the term. i am very proud of my husband for what he does in the military, and i am thankful for many of the benefits that we get through the military, but sometimes, i start feeling a teeny bit rebellious and start looking for ways to prove that the military does not own me.
it's all about knowing where the consequences lie. everyone is expected to comply when the guard at the gate asks to see your ID. i'm okay with that, because i don't want to have them pull out their guns and make a big scene if i refuse. and speeding on base? that's a definite no-no, because those military police are good at giving out tickets. i can handle that one, too. showing my ID card to the cashier at the commissary? that's understandable. however, when the nerd behind the counter at the gym on base asks to see my ID, which i've already had to show to actually get on base, and which i haven't had to produce for any of the other gym staff the dozen other times that i've been in the gym, i have a little bit of a problem.
a couple of weeks ago, i walked into the gym like normal with my gym bag and car keys in hand and went to sign in at the front desk. as usual, the sign in sheet had three spaces to be filled out: your name, your rank/status, and a box to check if you are getting a towel. i wrote down my last name only and then in the "rank/status" space, i wrote "civilian," like i had been doing every other time that i signed in. i knew that what they really wanted me to write was "dependent," but it's the little things that count. then, as i was checking the box for a towel, the little guy with the short-man complex behind the counter asked to see my ID card. sensing his insecurity, i told him that it was in my car and that no one else had ever asked to see it before. i then grabbed my towel and headed towards the locker room, half expecting him to yell at me to come back to the desk. having successfully escaped into the locker room, i gave myself an imaginary high-five, then went out into the gym for my workout.
well, it seems that the little man couldn't be out done, because the next time that i went into the gym there were hand written signs on both sets of doors going into the gym, on the desk next to the sign-in sheet, and on the white board behind the desk that say, "100% ID CHECK IN PROGRESS!!"
and!!! and, the sign-in sheet is now different. rather than a space to write in your rank/status, you instead have to check a box that labels you as either active duty, a dependent, retired, etc. so now, when i go into the gym, i submissively show my ID card, check the "dependent" box, give the little man behind the counter a sweet smile, and then go out into the gym, looking for other ways to assert my independence. =)
