Women in Uniform

The make-up went on first, so as not to risk any spills on the pristine, beautifully pressed beige dress, that hung from the back of the wooden louvred door. A central row of shiny buttons caught the light and twinkled in appreciative response.

They seemed to shine with the importance of the event I was to be part of... the first day of uniform for the women in the job.

Sitting on the end of the bed, the pantihose were to a girl brought up in the tropics, not something tackled easily.
Talls, mini beige, reinforced toe and heel. Sliding them on gingerly, positioning the toe and then the heel. Ah huh...got that, now here goes the rest.
The results were less than I had hoped ...the long length of slim, suntanned brown leg with the telltale imperfections of tomboy days, were smoothed to dull and milky looking. Errgh ...the constriction!

Unruly, long , brown hair resisting capture into a ‘no-nonsense’ bun. It was taking me forever ! One gossamer hairnet and a million bobby-pins later and we have compliance! No not quite... fine wisps breaking free at the sides, in search of reprimand... I just know it, it will get me into trouble! "Bugger... it will have to do!"

I cautiously slid the dress down over my head, shiny buttons aligned and now for the crowning glory...the black and white hat with it's blue chequered band. The same face staring with eyes alight in excited disbelief at the transformation in the mirror . Like a lamb to the slaughter, there stood a baby in police uniform.

For a nineteen year old girl in 1978, this moment of stepping out into a man's world of policing in the Territory, was the beginning of a loss of innocence. It was however this same innocence that made it possible to withstand the shameful treatment that was to be dished out to myself and many of the young women who were to follow.