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cadets
joining us. I don’t think they needed to do the pushups but our
efforts were being noticed by the Sergeant and advisors. Anything
that made us look good was on the agenda, because we were told
repeatedly we were pieces of shit and not fit to wear a
badge.
    We were finally given permission to put on our
duty belts. We were also issued “blue guns” and told to practice
our draw. Blue guns are hard rubber imitation firearms, matching
our department issue gun. Thank god I had gone out shooting before
the academy and knew what kind of gun I had. It was nice to wear
our belts and not carry them everywhere.
    By the end of the week my fellow cadets were
treating me normally, but Sgt. Dickens was not happy. On Friday I
was given an additional ten hill runs for dropping a piece of paper
on the floor in the hallway. We only had five hills to run as a
group that Friday, and the entire class ran my ten with me. As I
ran, there was a litany going through my head.
    "I will never call Dickface Dickless again. I
will never call Dickface Dickless again. I will
never..."
    And on it went. I knew this recitation would
probably come out at the worst time and I was doing myself more
harm than good. But saying those words got me up those fucking
hills when I didn’t think I could make it.
    Sgt. Dickens was right. He had made my life
hell. But I had survived.
    And I only had fifteen more weeks to
go.

 
    Chapter 10 I Have An Egg Head
     
    After my week in hell, courtesy of Sgt.
Dickens, I finally broke down and told my husband everything going
on at the academy. He was sympathetic and gave me a fantastic full
body massage that night. When I told him of my plan for returning
to the Policy Academy on Sunday, he helped implement it and
encouraged me through my tears.
    Sgt. Dickens could point out anything he
wanted at Monday morning inspection, but he would never again be
given the chance to complain about my hair touching my collar. I
loved my hair, and so did my husband, but I was determined to
finish what I started. I took my inspiration from Demi Moore and
G.I. Jane and decided that if sacrificing my hair would help; it
was a small price to pay. My resolve only grew stronger with every
snip.
    I arrived at the study session Sunday night
with a shaved head.
    I just wish I was one of those women that
looked good bald. My head looked like an egg with a
nose.
    Monday morning at physical training, I made it
over the six-foot wall for the first time. I was so excited I
forgot to run the twenty-five yards to complete the event. It
didn’t matter, the entire class was cheering and Sgt. Listberg gave
me a huge hug. Everyone said it was because I was ten pounds
lighter without my hair.
    Sgt. Dickens never batted an eye at my shaved
head. He only found a piece of hair (not mine) on my back pocket
and gave us ten pushups. I knew I wasn’t out of the woods, but it
was nice just to have some of the pressure off. Unfortunately, my
roommate became the next target.
    If we wanted to communicate with our advisors
we had to write a memo. We were given light blue paper, told to
print in all capital letters and not to scratch out or erase
anything. The blue paper showed the erasure lines. Misspelled words
were another no no. When we finished with our memo, it was given to
our squad leader and he in turn gave it to our class leader. Both
would review and correct each memo, giving back any they found had
problems.
    Donna decided she was tired of Sgt. Dickens
and squad advisors coming into the classroom and monitoring us when
we needed to be concentrating on school work. If an infraction was
seen during class we were pulled outside on the next break and
given pushups. We all held our breath when one of our superiors
came into the room. Donna was right, it made it hard to
concentrate.
    Donna wrote this in a memo to the academy
staff. It was first given to her squad leader and next to our class
leader, it was then turned in. The next morning was