Girl Scout Gone Bad

by cobaltandrising

Lil’ confession here: the world of Girl Scouting has always been a bit of a mystery to me.  Growing up in a small town, I knew only three Girl Scouts. They wore their brown sashes once, maybe twice a month to school, and they faced mockery from the other students every time the brown appeared.  I never really knew what it meant to be a Girl Scout, but I was for darn sure I never wanted to wear a brown sash.  I was too cool. (Translation: I was too ignorant to know that Carol, Bonnie and Joy rocked coolness in their own right.)

As a high schooler, I chose to bring the Girl Scouts some publicity in my own personal way.  I mean, who wouldn’t want to wear a t-shirt from the local Goodwill emblazoned with the words GIRL SCOUT GONE BAD???  Since I didn’t have a clue what a Girl Scout did or who she was, I had no idea how she could even go bad.  But the t-shirt spoke to me, and as a “good girl”, I felt like an absolute scandal wearing it!

Now, here I am years later, certainly past some of the misconceptions of my youth, yet still trying to figure out my relationship with the Girl Scouts of America.  A couple of months ago, I signed up, joined in, ventured out.  Much to my own disbelief (and delight) I am a proud mother of a Daisy (for all you newbies, this is the lingo for a Scout in grades K-1).  I am also—what in retrospect seems like an unbelievable stroke of crazy—the co-leader of her troop.

To say this is uncomfortable territory for me is saying both a whole lot and very little at the same time.  Let’s just put it this way…it has been…an education.

And boy—or girl, I should say—have I learned some things!  First of all, it’s probably not a good idea to jokingly mention to a bunch of seasoned Girl Scout troop leaders that you EVER wore the t-shirt mentioned above.  It’s especially not a good idea to reference how you know next-to-nothing about Girl Scouts while sitting in a room with a large amount of Girl Scouting veterans.

And then there was today, when I spent way longer than it takes a normal person to iron 7 patches on a little vest.  And guess what?  Despite my valiant effort to line up those patches, they look like I’ve never seen a straight line in my life.

Lord have mercy on my little Daisy.  She’s got GIRL SCOUT GONE BAD for a mother.

I’m thinking if I survive this first year of the Girl Scout experiment, I should definitely get a patch.  Perhaps it should say GIRL SCOUT GONE BAD MAKES GOOD.  All I know is, I’m ironing it on upside down.

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