What Not to Wear, Military Edition

Last night I dreamt that I was in my first week at the United States Military Academy at West Point. I had attended one day of class, wherein we were required to wear our snazzy grey wool cadet uniforms (there must be a formal term for this, but I don’t know it) and then they told us to wear our khakis/whites for the 2nd day of classes.

But I was late the first day and missed the “dress” class, so I was really unsure about this khaki/white arrangement. Being really nervous about getting it wrong, I casually asked a few people what this meant (not letting them know that I had missed the “dress” class because I have an image to maintain, people) and they said it’s just khaki pants or skirt, pressed, and a white button down shirt. Could West Point be so easily pleased? Really? No rules about what KIND of shirt, how many buttons, type of collar, length of hem? Hmm. It seemed West Point was not the stuffy institution that I’d always heard it to be if they just let me wear some Gap khakis and a white top to classes. Whatever. One person I asked pointed me to the campus bookseller who purportedly sold khakis that West Point deemed acceptable.

So Tuesday morning, I head to the bookstore (a Barnes & Noble, like just about every other American college campus bookstore) and headed to the back to look for khakis. I felt rushed for time because classes started soon, and I was dismayed when all I saw was racks and racks of khaki-colored maternity daisy duke shorts.

For real.

I was like, well, I could actually wear those – but I’m preeeeeeeeetty sure that isn’t what West Point has in mind.

I stayed in the back of the bookstore until 5:30 pm trying on clothes only to find that NOTHING fit me, EVERYTHING looked hookerish, and balancing my anxiety about being a good little West Point cadet by wearing my khakis but at the same time skipping my 2nd days of classes (in the search for said khakis). It was bad. I was ready to puke, but I was at the back of the Barnes & Noble with no pants on, and I couldn’t find khakis to fit.

Finally, under the pile, I found a skirt that was khaki with tiny silver pinstripes, decided that would work, bought it, and got the hell outta there. On my way out of the store I saw another cadet who informed me that tomorrow’s uniform request was NOT khakis. It was tartan plaid.

I woke up in a cold sweat.

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Things I learned from this dream:

1) Watching the President’s address to all those pristinely dressed West Point cadets last night was apparently poor planning on my part (blame it on the pregnancy brain and my own school uniform anxiety circa 1997 that apparently still thrives deep within my psyche).

2) I am not cut out for West Point.


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