I was really impressed by a recent story about Prince Harry, who has joined the British army. It said that he "will serve in the Blues and Royals regiment of the venerable Household Cavalry, which already has been deployed to Iraq." Harry hopes to lead an armored reconnaissance troop, which deploys in Scimitar vehicles and acts as the eyes and ears of the force commander." I'm especially impressed because there are two divisions, the armored division, where Harry will train, and the mounted regiment, which performs ceremonial duties, including guarding the queen on ceremonial and public occasions. He could have chosen the "cushier" division, but he chose one that could have him deployed. "There's no way I'm going to put myself through Sandhurst and then sit ... back home while my boys are out fighting for their country," he said. His brother William, who could become king one day, is currently undergoing military training, as well--although it remains to be seen if he'll choose the same, potentially dangerous path, as his brother. (To protect lineage to the throne, he may not be ALLOWED to.) Either way: it's one thing for the leader of a country to send its soldiers to war while their own loved ones are safe and sound back home (ahem); it's quite another to put your money where your mouth is and actually deploy WITH them.
Random thought #2: a bunch of us were congregating near the bathing suit section at work yesterday, doing some "straightening" (ie, "shopping while getting paid for it"). I mentioned that I wasn't quite ready for the immenent arrival of the dreaded bathing suit season. "Why not?" one girl asked, looking me up and down. "You're skinny."
The thing is, though: maybe my body perception is now permanently skewed, but I honestly don't see myself as "skinny." Yes, I'm much thinner than I WAS, but I still don't feel thin. Maybe I never will again. After having been a "big girl" (not that I was morbidly obese or anything, but I was definitely overweight), I wonder if, no matter how much weight I lose, I'll always see the Old Jen looking back at me in the mirror.
And on a less serious note: if a certain meteorologist ever dares to use the phrases "pleasant" and "36 degrees" together in the same sentence again, I will kick him in the gnads.