My third grade teacher told the class one day that one of her favorite treats was to put powdered sugar on orange slices. As I sat in my desk, my eyes widened like a kid in a candy store. That sounded amazing!! I could not wait to get home and try that dessert of a treat! That is exactly what I did when I got home, luckily we had all the fixings in the house. Only, I felt afraid of getting caught. So, I carefully and quietly gathered all the ingredients. Unpeeled the orange and sprinkled the slices with the powdered sugar. I huddled in the corner of the kitchen on the floor and tried to consume this delectable treat very quickly. My mom came in the kitchen and I began to cry so terribly hard. Filled with fear, shame, and guilt for what I was doing. Trying to explain, I just wanted to try it out because my teacher suggested it. That I was so sorry for being “bad.” Confused, my mom comforted me and brought me to the table to finish my snack, my terrible treat.
In Fourth grade I joined Girl Scouts, which I loved so dearly. I enjoyed working within a group of girls and striving to meet the goals of earning badges. One badge was earned for selling a certain quota of Girl Scout cookies. To this day, I could eat an entire box of thin mints. I love Girl Scout cookies and love supporting the troops, but it is another one of those items I cannot have in the house. To sell Girl Scout cookies, I got a certain amount of cases that were filled with about 24 boxes of cookies. Each filled with the different kinds, Tag Alongs, Samoas, Thin Mints the list goes on. I think I received 4 or so cases that we kept in the garage. I was excited to sell my cookies and did fairly decent when I would go to the stores and stand outside. However, those cookies called to me. I would hear them talking to me from within the garage. Stassia, we are in here. We taste so good. There are so many of us, no one will notice if you eat some of us. And there it began. Slowly I went into that garage, breaking open the case and into a box of cookies. At first just one or two cookies. But I continued going back into that garage like a moth to the light. I couldn’t stop eating those cookies, one to two cookies became one to two boxes, then one to two cases. Then I walked through the eating time warp, like stepping through a portal from one side into another world. To my dismay, I had eaten all the cases of cookies I was supposed to sell. I tried to keep it a secret until my mom was preparing to take me to sell the cookies and asked what had happened. In my shame, I had to confess to my parents that I had eaten all the cookies.
These weird habits continued through my childhood. I wasn’t allowed to eat dessert unless it was after dinner on the weekends. So, I would sneak into the kitchen when no one was around. Grab a mug and a spoon, fill it with ice cream. Then I would run into the bathroom and quickly eat the ice cream. Then run back into the kitchen and quickly clean everything. What a rush, so secretive, so terribly bad. My dad used to hide cookies from us and I would always find them. There was an armoire next to the bed in my parents’ room and I would push his stack of sweaters back “crinkle, crinkle.” Yes! There are cookies back there!! I would always have to be strategic about it so he wouldn’t notice, but that was the best sound. Like winning the jackpot!