"White or yellow...?"
I tilt my head to one side and then to the other. I turn around and look back over my shoulder raising an eyebrow. No, definitely I won't leave this store looking like this. I take off the belt and place the dress better on my shoulders with my fingertips so it has an adequate hang, otherwise, it will bunch up on my hips. I tilt my head again staring at my reflection in the mirror while I stop standing on my toes. "Mmmm... I don't know... it feels so weird." I look at my bare legs... maybe if I wear high-heeled shoes I'd make up my mind. I can't help chuckling while shaking my head: Lieutenant Martin is wearing a dress for the first time in eight years. And not only that, it's a garish yellow dress that can be seen from miles away and she wants to wear it with stilettos. If I take a picture and send it to my comrades-in-arms, they'd laugh their asses off; some of them wouldn't believe it even with the picture in front of their eyes. I can almost hear my Commander: "Iselen wearing a dress with camouflage print? It could be. Wearing a yellow dress? No fucking way." I sigh deeply, still hesitant while I rub the soft fabric between my fingers. My clothes, piled up in a corner of the dressing room, emit a muffled 'ding;' I have a new text. "Where is my phone," I ask confused. "In my jeans pocket, I think. Anyway, I read it later."
I've been doing a lot of things for the first time in eight years lately: I walked without looking over my shoulder every minute, I didn't carry a heavy backpack full of equipment, I ate real food on porcelain plates instead of army rations, I've been window-shopping like any other girl, walking instead of running from here to there... and I'm trying on a dress. But, above all, I'm on holyday, I've been driving along the US West Coast for the last ten days and I'm having the time of my life, enjoying the sun and the beaches, without keeping a strict schedule, doing what I want when I wanted. I frown when I think about that, I'd love to sleep in and getting up late but my mind wakes me up early in the morning automatically and there's nothing I can do about it. Too many years of training and getting up early, I guess, and now it's too late to change. But it has its perks, like for example watching the sunrise while you're running on the beach.
A wide smile spreads across my lips. "Holidays, what a beautiful word." Most of the people assume that this is a time for enjoying but unfortunately this is not always the case. Of course, I've had my days' leave during these past eight years, weeks sometimes, but my commitment to the Special Forces of the Spanish Army requires me to stay in the territory of my country on permanent call in case of an emergency. In theory, I'm only allowed to go on holiday to a place close enough to a military base for me to be able to stand at attention in front of a commanding officer in a few hours if I'm required. And I'm always required: I'm a precision sharpshooter in the best team of green berets so, even if one mission is easy, they ensure the success by calling us instead of calling regular soldiers. They call us, we rush to get there and we do our jobs right so they don't disturb the others. And if we aren't called, we spend our time training or at the shooting range practicing, or going scuba diving or doing survival courses...
"I went dressed in black to the last award ceremony so look for something in a brighter colour, please." A muffled sound of assent comes from the next dressing room, then I hear some steps walking away quickly. I guess the shop assistant is helping one of those wealthy brats that live in this city. I tilt my head again in front of the mirror... definitely, I can't picture myself wearing a dress, I'm more comfortable with my cargo pants and my T-shirts. I may look like a tom boy but at least I'm happy. "And it's way cheaper..." I whisper shocked when I read the price tag that is hanging from the garment. "Is that the price or the reference code of this design? That's a lot of zeros." Is not that I can't afford it, I have a pretty good salary even though some people think that someone who dares to risk his life for the country everyday should earn more money. To be honest, I hardly have any expenses: I live and eat in a military base, I travel in cars and planes that belong to the Army and I'm always wearing uniform and boots, I go out for dinner or drinks with my comrades once in a blue moon and my only occasional whim is a good book. "Paying this amount of money for a dress it's indecent," I think while I remember how I've seen large families living with a small fraction of that money in some of the countries in which I've been stationed.
