While I’m still on the mend from my snowboarding accident, I had to fight every urge to ride my bike to class tonight as I usually do. Determined to still get in some sort of workout (and to prove to my professor/classmates that yes, I’m still that weirdo who shows up for class clad in spandex), I decided to run a few miles to/from our weekly Operations Management rendezvous.
Considering that today should have been an “off” day from running, I stuck with an easy 4-miler again; 2 miles from my car to classroom and 2 miles back to car. My love for running increased tenfold as I realized I wouldn’t have to jockey for space in the bike lane on Mass Ave, nor would I need to worry about finding a parking spot in Harvard Square. Score 10 for the efficient use of my feet as transportation! All in all, a great, leisurely run where I for some reason thought about nothing other than how good some Girl Scout cookies would have been at that moment.
Speaking of cookies…
Why, oh why, are Girl Scout cookies so damn addicting?? As a former Girl Scout (GS), I’ve spent multiple hours gorging myself in all that is wonderful about those cute, little crack-filled morsels (seriously, there must be some sort of illegal substance in them). And of course, this year was no exception as I eagerly signed up to purchase cookies the moment the order form circulated at the office. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to spend $4 on a box of cookies that is 50% packaging (I’m on to your tricks, you clever little hyenas!). As my mind danced with visions of me celebrating my sugar high by bouncing up & down—and rolling around–on the exercise ball at my desk (you laugh but this is an all too common occurrence; my poor co-workers), I realized that I needed a cookie intervention the size of Texas.
They say that the first step in overcoming an addiction is first admitting that you have a problem. Well then….My name is Jen and I am a GS cookieaholic (this the moment when you all respond, “Hi Jen” or perhaps, “Hello, Fruitcake.”). Like any good little Brownie would do, I’ve accepted my position and I recently devised a plan to help me crawl out of the cookie-laden abyss I’ve fallen into. Essentially, I developed my own, soon-to-be-patented, iron-clad system for evading the ever present temptation to inhale an entire box of Thin Mints: I now have a cookie schedule; a weekly ration that will ensure that a constant stream of GS cookie goodness is forever flowing through my veins.
My system is simple. I’ll never eat more than two cookies at a time, and I’ll never experience this two-cookie blissful state of Nirvana more than three times per week. To minimize distraction and temptation on the weekends, the cookies will stay (locked) in my office. Easy as 1,2, 3…..as pie…I’ve totally got this!
Until of course the cookies arrived. Like a crazed God of Cake, I instantly tore through the box and reveled in the chocolate coated cookies staring back at me. In went the first cookie and I quickly gobbled up 3 more. But wait! What about my iron-clad system?! What about my cookie addiction?! I couldn’t just fall back into the abyss like some will-less, hapless sap…Or could I?
The short answer? You bet your ass I could! As I polished off the last cookie in the stack, all the while bouncing around like a crazed Mexican jumping bean on my exercise ball, I admitted defeat. Girl Scout cookies, you may have thwarted my efforts to overcome my addiction this year, but I promise you one thing: Next year, my successful admonishment of your prowess? It’s on like Donkey Kong.
And because every post should feature a montage of ridiculous pictures, I leave you these: