On Sturdy Legs

Between Different Choices

Izzy was banging on the door of my bathroom before I was even done taming my hair in the shower.

Nevertheless, I turned off the water and called out, "what?"

"You have a date at one o'clock!" She called through the door to me.

"I do?" I called back to her. I am quite sure that I would remember being asked on a date or planning one. "With who?"

Izzy conveniently decided not to answer that and just told me, "hurry up!"

I had a feeling I already knew who I was going on that date with. This was one of those arguments that would be much more effective not on either side of a door. I turned the shower back on and continued rinsing the conditioner out of my hair. I was sure that there was some rule about girls shaving extra thoroughly before the first date; however, the last thing I was in the mood to do was shave, so I skipped that. When I got out of the shower, I toweled my hair as dry as I could get it and wrapped myself up in a towel to head back to my room for whatever argument with Izzy was going to occur.

I walked on on her braiding her hair into a fishtail braid that fell over her shoulder with very loose strands and a tighter headband braid across her head. Izzy was very prepared for this, apparently, double date. She wore a pink dress that flared out with a black band around the waist, at the hem, and black mesh around her neck that acted as straps. She paired this with a pair of wedges with pink straps the same color, a pair of silver earrings in the shape of a bow, and neat makeup in the form of pink lip gloss and outlined eyes. Izzy tied off her braid and secured a pink bow at the end before she turned to me with clear delight. My wardrobe had already been thrust open and dismembered in some attempt to find something for me to wear. I already knew that Izzy would find nothing that would meet her standards; it was all event tops, cut offs, and athletic shorts. And the only dresses I had were a bit too much for a simple date, seeing as I had worn them to homecoming and the military ball.

"You have nothing! Literally nothing!" Izzy announced in annoyance, she tossed me a pair of bootcut jeans that were loose enough in the leg that they fit over my large calves and didn't squeeze my thighs too tightly. "That is the best I could find. We need to go shopping, you need date clothes."

"I have date clothes!" I protested but obeyed and grabbing a random pair of panties, sliding into both items of clothing on while Izzy attacked my closet.

She tossed me a bra over her shoulder without looking. I had to reach for it to catch it.

"You are wearing a normal bra. Guys do not find sports bras attractive!"

I obeyed her and put this on too. "I don't care."

"What on earth did you wear when you went on dates? Did you even go on dates?" She turned to me with hands on hips as if she were our mother.

"Of course I went on dates," I insisted. "I wore whatever I happened to put on that day." Izzy scoffed. "Oh come on, most of them took me to dinner after drills and didn't even change out of their fatigues. And I went to homecoming with guys, that's a date! Besides, it's just clothes. Why dress for a person who can't tell army camo from navy camo or navy from black?"

"I will not even get started on your idea of a dress!" Izzy snapped and continued to dismember my closet.

She stopped at a top I didn't recognize as one of my race ones, pulled it from the stack, and held it up. Right, I knew why I didn't recognize it: I never wore it. The top was black but made of that thin, annoyingly silky material that women's clothing often was. It had a halter neck in the most annoying way. Izzy held it up in front of me as if to imagine it on me.