Where Ugly Girls go to get Pretty

I have never, in my 19 years of existence, felt like such a juicy piece of rare meet dangling in a lion’s den. I will claim to be neither an ugly nor a good looking gal, not that it would matter much. You just have to be a female to get attention here. It is the most peculiar feeling to walk into the DFAC (the dining facility) and have every set of eyes follow you. I feel the eyes on me, and I watch as eyes travel other female patrons of the DFAC.

I could put it another way, to paint the picture a little more vibrantly. My dad told me this morning that he could be carrying 10 duffle bags, sweating, and keeling over… breathing his last breath and nobody will give the old man a second thought. However, I could walk by with on duffle bag, barely breaking a sweat, and I have 10 guys offering their assistance. And yes, I am not ashamed to admit it, I have been known to work that to my advantage. Show a little sign of struggle… and I’m not the one hurting at night. It’s not my fault that I can see through their efforts… but that they have yet to see through my wily ways…

However I think the third bathroom stall from the left (I’ve made an effort to do business in every one of them, because I like to read the graffiti… don’t judge me=] ) said it best when someone thoughtful, and mature individual wrote “Iraq… where ugly girls go to get pretty.” Yep. That about sums it up.

Anyways, just thought I would share this bit of insight with everyone.

I’m working nights right now, complete opposite of my dad. But we do have dinner and breakfast together. We make do with the time we have, and even if it happens to be just a little bit… it is all the more precious because we are able to have just that little bit.

This Sunday we went to church, and I was pleasantly surprised to find out they had music there. My favorite part of church has always been belting it out to my favorite songs… and it had been a while since I had sang at all. It felt good to stand next to my dad and belt it out as if I was still home, singing in Harry’s church… although singing with the organ and elderly folks was a bit more trying for my vocal chords…

Well, I love you guys! Please feel free to e-mail me at jacki.crotteau@yahoo.com or at jacki.crotteau@iraq.centcom.mil either is the best way to reach me.

<3 Me.