The story you are about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.*
My name is Tara, um, I mean it’s Sara (forgot I was protecting the innocent here). Anyway, I live in the rough and tumble world of the suburbs. You know the 'burbs. Places people dream about. A house. A small yard. Clean air. Room for kids to play. You get the jist....
Well those ‘burbs are no picnic if you are a mom like me.
Yes, you know moms just like me. Slightly chubby. Mom hair. Mom car. I draw the line at mom jeans though, just so you know. Ahem. Moving on. I have great kids, and a good life, and even a Yorkie.
And one very dirty secret.
I’m addicted to Girl Scout cookies. Seriously. I can’t stay away. They are like crack to me. Every year around this time, evil troops of Girls Scouts plan their cookie selling routes and they always, always include my house or where I shop or where I'm walking, they are literally everywhere.
Oh, I try to avoid them. I mean, my intentions every February are to stick to My New Year’s diet plan. But when those little girls come around, their little arms piled high with all kinds of yummy treats…well, who am I to turn them down? Seriously, people. They are so dang cute – all those boxes and boxes of cookies. Yeah, yeah, the girls are cute too.
I try to resist but I can’t. So I buy them. Boxes and boxes of Thin Mints and Samoas. And of course, I eat them. Boxes and boxes of Thin Mints and Samoas. EAT.THEM.ALL.
And sometimes, my kids or Mark...um, I mean Marc, hide them from me. They are not trying to hurt me. They are just trying to help me. They see me when I come down from my Thin Mint-induced sugar high. All wide-eyed and looking to score a Samoas or even a Lemonades. Shaking because I can’t even find a dang tag-a-long in the pantry.
But I can find the dealers. They hang out on the street corners near my house. Oh they say they’re playing and riding bikes, but I know the truth. They are waiting for moms like me. I find a cute one missing her front teeth. I pull up next to her in my mom car and silently pass her $4, all folded and rolled, my eyes searching to make sure the local workout moms don’t catch me in my shameful act. The cutie with no front teeth reaches into her backpack, slips out a box of Thin Mints and I take them, even though I already have 3 boxes at home, I must hide them quickly!!!
Yes, I’m that desperate.
Only one thing sustains me. It will soon be over. Cookie season will be done and gone and after I detox from all the sugar, I’ll be back to normal. Of course, my pants size will never be the same again. But that’s a small price to pay for the deliciousness that is the Thin Mint.
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