Skip to content

Thin Mints

March 30, 2017

Weight Watchers Girl Scout Cookies

He slapped the last box of Thin Mints on the table while we stared. “I deserve these cookies,” he said. “I need them.”

The rest of our Weight Watchers group looked down at our shoes, unable to meet his eyes. The second hand on the clock was deafening.

He grunted. “I’ll come back for these when I want them, not need them.” He turned and stalked out the door. The exhalation of held breaths drowned out the ticking clock.

His footsteps echoed down the hall. I eased a sleeve of Thin Mints from the box and stuffed it into my pocket.


I took a pair of Thin Mints from their sleeve — one serving — and threw the box into the trunk of my car. Then I drove. I started with a nibble, that became a bite, and before I could swallow, an entire cookie was in my mouth. The remaining one hung like a cigarette between two fingers, my hands on the wheel.

I only had to make it to the expressway. Then there would be no pulling over. One serving.

I took the barest nibble and held it in my mouth until it dissolved. The morsel of minty chocolate sludge stuck to the roof of my mouth while my esophagus yearned. The pleasure came not just from the taste on the tongue, but in the total act of consuming. To swallow was a release, but the hunger returned like a tide, moments after its ebb.

The on-ramp. Crumbs fell from the bitten cookie and with them came tiny pangs of loss.

The remaining Thin Mint went into my mouth the moment I merged into traffic. Chew, savor, swallow. The pleasure was too small, too fleeting, too sharp. I stomped the accelerator and looked for gaps in the next lane. Flipped the radio presets as a distraction. The Stones came on the Oldies station. I turned it up and sang along at the top of my lungs.

‘Cause I try, and I try, and I try, and I try

I can’t get no

I can’t get no


The rhythm of the traffic and the music carried me. My mind drifted. The taste in my mouth faded, became a ghost. A memory. I thought about the box in the trunk, and I felt… nothing.

I had won.

I took the long way home.




From → Bullshit Journal

Leave a Comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: