My Beef With the Girl Scouts

Every year about this time they make their appearance. They seem so cute and so innocent, but people let me tell you, those little girls with those sweet smiles are ruthless saleswomen at heart. In the cold, dark, middle of winter (did I mention that it was almost 80 here the other day?) they entice you to buy those little pieces of Heaven which clearly are laced with whatever people lace stuff with. They call them cookies, but y'all they are much more than cookies. No mere cookie has this kind of sway over me. I find myself thinking about them throughout the day wondering if Patrick took the last box of Thin Mints with him to work and working out a plan of action were I to arrive home and find the cupboard bare.

I say I buy them to support the Girl Scouts. I say I buy them because it's the charitable thing to do. But y'all let's face it. That is a big fat lie. I buy those cookies so I can eat them . . . and eat them . . . and eat them. And when I run out, I book it to the nearest Wal Mart praying that those sweet little girls are standing out in the cold with those little boxes of Heaven for me to purchase.

Which is why I inevitably gain 5 pounds every year around this time. This is also why my daughter will never be allowed to join the Girl Scouts. Neither my pocketbook or my waistline could afford to have Girl Scout cookies at my fingertips.

* Disclaimer: I have absolutely nothing against the Girl Scouts. They are a marvelous organization. As the matter of a fact, I love and admire them for their cookies.