A Lesson in Every Box

Girl Scout Cookie season is upon us, and that means grocery stores, malls, and parking lots are often graced these days by folding tables with boxes of tasty—and for some of us, nostalgic—treats for sale. The little pop-up shops are managed by young girls, often wearing uniforms and badges. And they’re usually supervised by a parent or two who encourage their daughters to speak up, nod supportively as the girls answer questions, and sometimes keep an eye on the money math.

On a good day, these booths are lightly swarmed with people who are excited to buy their favorites. They’re saying things like, Ooh! You still have Thin Mints! and, I’ll try those lemon ones, too!

But on a bad day, the banter sounds a little different. It sounds like, Oh no, I’ve been good all week and now Girl Scout Cookies?! and These are going straight to my hips.

Problem is, the young girls hear all this. All the body shame. All the naughty/bad labeling of food. All the complaints that Now I’m going to have to go to the gym and I’m never going to lose weight—and a million self-criticisms and arrows to the self-esteem.

GirlScouts.org tells us, “Every package is filled with leadership and life lessons”—but those lessons are meant to be You can learn to run a business and You can make a plan and carry through. Not You’re supposed to be ashamed of your body and You will only be loved if you’re skinny.

Here’s where the real shame belongs: The incidence of disordered eating among adolescents is not only scary, it’s on the rise. And diet talk is a huge contributor. In fact, most of us grow up so surrounded by messages that demonize foods—and any amount of body fat—we think these ideas are normal. We accept the notion that certain foods are unhealthy or bad for you without considering how harmful it is to be nagged and stressed about every little bite.  We hear constant complaints about ugh, exercise that suggest movement is supposed to be punishment for enjoying dessert. So we apply words like have to and need to when we treat ourselves to a walk.

Starting early in childhood, we learn that bodies—especially feminine bodies—are celebrated only when they conform to somebody else’s standards, such as the fashion-magazine apparition that’s so unhealthy it’s known as heroin chic. So we clash with our own physical and emotional feelings, and we teach ourselves to not even recognize when we’re hungry.  

It's no wonder young girls develop unhealthy goals and behaviors, and many of them—many of us—grow up feeling inadequate, unattractive, and confused. In truth, even the girls and young women who are objectively thin and envied by their peers are generally unhappy with the mirror. And it’s all a big disgrace.

So why is a pro-aging advocate spouting off about diet culture and cookies, and what does it have to do with ageism?

It’s all the same kind of poison.

All that unhealthy diet-culture talk that says You’re loveable only if you’re thin creeps in the same way, and does the same kind of damage, as all that unhealthy, youth-culture talk that says You’re valuable only when you’re young. And they both start their damage in childhood.

We all know better than to walk up to a young girl and say You must never, for one second, feel comfortable about what you’re eating or what you weigh. Even if we don’t know the science behind diet-culture messaging and eating disorders and unhappiness—and yes, how they can lead to early death—we know that filling young people’s heads with poisonous messaging is a really bad idea. And yet it happens a thousand times a day, with little jokes and jabs about the scale and our shape and our diets.

And we should know better than to walk up to someone of any age and say You must never, for one second, feel comfortable about the fact that you’re getting older or that you actually change over time. Even if we don’t know the science and statistics behind negative views of aging and activity curtailment and unhappiness—and yes, how they can lead to early death—we should know that filling anybody’s head with poisonous messaging is a really bad idea. And yet it happens a thousand times a day with little jokes about reading glasses and dating ourselves and what it was like when I was a child and dinosaurs roamed the earth.

Years ago, there was a Pepperidge Farm ad campaign that went something like, “If you’re going to eat a cookie … eat a cookie.” I think the idea was, when you “treat” yourself, do it with something you’ll really enjoy. But I used to think about the way my friends talked about “junk food”—Oh my god I’m such a pig I just ate the whole thing—and I thought the campaign should say, “If you’re going to eat a cookie … just eat a damned cookie.” My reasoning was that, when you “treat” yourself, shut up and do it. Forget the judgment and complaining, and forget the idea that you have to tell everyone around you that cookies=shame.

So have a cookie and enjoy it. Or, hell—have a fistful. Pay mindful attention to the sweet crunchiness. Experience the kick of energy that fuels a beautiful walk in the woods or a kettlebell class with your friends—or just gazing out the window as the clouds float by. And if eating cookies makes you question your self-worth … work on that issue yourself—or with a professional—without recruiting the kids and other people around you.

While you’re at it, grow another day older and enjoy that, too. Or, hell—celebrate a whole new decade. Pay attention to the things you know today that you didn’t know last year. Experience the growth and maturity that fuel a meaningful conversation with friends or a new understanding of what matters most—or just gaze out the window as the clouds float by. And if growing older makes you question your self-worth … work on that issue yourself—or with a professional—without recruiting the kids and other people around you.

Girl Scout Cookie season is almost over. By the time you read this, even my cupboards might be bare of Do-Si-Dos and Thin Mints, and they may have all transformed into bike rides and trail hikes and walks with my landlady’s dog.

Or some seriously mature and enlightened gazing out the window as the clouds float by.

Photo by Margaret McDonald