Too Fat for Ice Cream

There I sat, in the DFAC (dining facility), innocently eating my ice cream. Baskin Robbins dark chocolate ice cream, specifically, topped with chocolate shavings and whipped cream. Indeed, in the immortal works of General William Tecumseh Sherman, war is hell.

I was accompanied by my CO, XO and a fellow LT from the S4 (logistics) shop. As we ate, I noticed the Brigade Commander, striding down the isle. RUMINT (rumors intelligence) had held that he had arrived, but I’d not realized he was on the ground until now. “Hey Ma’am,” just a heads up, the Colonel is coming this way” I warned while glancing downward like a guilty child, hoping to avoid eye contact.

My fellow LT and I had spent much of the meal teasing our XO about joining the military while we were toddlers and being the only man at the table, so he decided to have his revenge. Halfway standing up at the table, he hailed down the Colonel. And with the Command Sergeant Major in tow, the BCT Commander set his plate with ours. The relaxed air of the table immediately evaporated at we sat up straighter, mentally checked our uniforms and began framing our sentences with “sir.” Both men left momentarily to grab drinks and I took the opportunity to tease my CO “So, what’s it worth to you that I behave like a proper officer while he’s here?” My CO responded with a threat to my yearly evaluation, but little did we know that the damage had already been done.

I was playing the role of a 19th century child, only speaking when spoken to when the Colonel glared at me and interrogated “LT Merkel, are you going to eat ice cream like that every night?” Surprised, I responded negatively. He then continued on to talk about placing a guard at the ice cream counter to prevent fat people from getting desert. Ironically enough, I've even lost weight since arriving here.

The people in my shop have been calling me Ice Cream Girl ever since.