Looking for My Better Half

"Be prepared." This is the Girl Scout motto. It should be "be prepared to be shut down." or "be prepared to want to quit after one year" At least these were my personal Girl Scout mottos.

When I first joined as a little 9-year-old, I was ready to go all-in. I knew of the delicious cookies and fun field trips, so I was willing to don the brown uniform, (brown was my LEAST favorite color at the time, just so you know) all for the exclusive club of fellow little girls.

I was not disappointed in the beginning. The field trips were exciting and had much better benefits than the standard school trips. The best field trip was by far our trip to a famous local bakery where we got to go behind the scenes into the kitchen. As we toured around, what do you know? We came upon a large table covered with the most beautiful, buttery danishes I'd ever seen! The head chef, our tour guide, grinned from ear to ear as he told us that we were all allowed to have half a danish. (Have I mentioned my love of free food?)

We (meaning me) squealed with glee as we all ran and grabbed a pre-cut half of a danish. I can taste it now: cherry flavored heaven. After our chomping pleasure was complete (maybe 30 seconds?) we looked to see that the chef had anticipated two or three more troops because the table was still covered with yummy-looking danishes. In just a minute of hesitation, he grinned again and told us we could all have another half.

Another half! Can we say BEST. DAY. EVER? Almost 10 years later, I still remember the fluttering in my chest. I'm pretty sure I made my joy clear to the other girls, to the mom volunteers, and especially to my beloved chef. As I finished my beloved cheese danish half, I noticed that although the table certainly had empty spots here and there, there were certainly some lonely danishes still left on the table. I looked around to see how much my fellow Girl Scouts had enjoyed our luck, and knew what I had to do.

I looked up to the nearest mom volunteer and asked, "Can we have a third piece?"

Silence. My cookie-selling peers looked at me with disgust, and the mom volunteers looked at me with pity. I apparently did not read the fine print in the Girl Scout code that says little girls NEVER ask for thirds. Sure we can sell cookies to people by the carton, but to consume more than one danish? Pure gluttony.

When I realized that it wasn't just the mom volunteers who were embarrassed for me, but the girls in the troop as well, I realized that the Girl Scouts suck. There, I've said it. I will always resent them for holding out that last half danish on me and making me feel like a pig. I can only hope that the chef was secretly thrilled that I couldn't get enough and that he is still waiting to marry me and bake me danishes every morning.