You’ve read enough about me to know the free Grand-Slam breakfast from Denny’s didn’t tempt me in the least. You know I laugh in the face of ice cream, stay strong in the presence of breadsticks, and faithfully bring my own salad dressing to every restaurant. I can even say no to peanut butter!
Knowing that, you probably (naturally) assume that I stand my ground around food pushers, too. Normally I can and do. But I have a confession to make. There is this one, small (and I mean small) exception – perky 8-year-olds wearing green sashes lined with hobby, cooking, camping, and first aid badges.
Yes, I’m talking about...
Just when I feel safe and a little smug for having successfully navigated the holiday food land mines, girls all over our neighborhood will soon descend on my house like pack wolves. Nice, friendly girls whose eyes, if you look close enough, turn hypnotic yellow and before you know it, you’re writing out a check to troop 549 and wondering if you can write off your (embarrassingly large) cookie purchase on your taxes. Doesn’t happen to you? I guess it’s just me, then.
It’s a sickness. A sickness, I tell you. If eating Thin Mints was an Olympic sport, I’d be the Michael Phelps of cookie consumption and endorsed by every bakery in this country. I’ve been in Thin Mint recovery for five years now, but back in the old days of eating with abandon, you could eat my Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Shortbreads, DoSiDos and Trefoils, but you didn’t come between me and my Thin Mints.
I used to hide them deep in the freezer or under my bed like a drunk hides his vodka in the toilet tank. My mouth would salivate just thinking about their crispy texture and minty taste. (Oh who am I kidding with “would.” It still does!) Just the smell was (probably still is) intoxicating, like a fine wine. If I’d been given a choice between licking chocolate frosting off a naked George Clooney or being thrown naked into pit with only a sleeve of Thin Mints for sustenance, the mints, sadly, would win.
I read today on CNN that the economic downturn has hit the Girl Scout cookie business and that they’re putting two to four fewer cookies in each box this year. Five years ago I’d have responded like a conspiracy theorist, wondering if it meant Thin Mints would be extinct next year. I’d have panicked and worried I’d be left with just Keebler Grasshoppers, a nice try of a cookie, but no comparison to my beloved Thin Mints. I’d have ordered a few extra boxes, just in case, hoarding them like Today Sponges and wondering if anyone out there was Thin Mint worthy.
Thin Mint recovery is difficult this time of year, to be sure. There are many foods that I purposely don’t eat, but would if the time was right and I’d be comfortable knowing when to say when. Thin Mints, all kidding aside, are truly an addicting food to me, something I really have to stay away from. While I’m fairly confident that I would say no to them if offered, I know I’d play a torturous mind game of “If I don’t eat dinner tonight…” or “Oh, just one, PLEASE, Lynn?!” like I’m some kind of puppy. Having them around the house or debating eating just one isn’t worth it.
However, if George Clooney were to call…thanks to five years of Thin Mint sobriety, I’m pretty sure I’d find him Thin Mint worthy.