Aw Shucks or That Time I Got Kicked Out Of Girl Scouts For Cursing

After spending the evening cursing a blue streak at the contestants on The Biggest Loser, I began to reflect on a memory I shared with a room full of people just hours before. These days while I tend to save my potty mouth for reality television contenders and quoting Judd Apatow films, there was a period in my life where I had no control over my vocabulary. This is a post about that time.

Everyone has that one experience from childhood that they can’t help but repeat a thousand times. Over the years my story has become known as: “That Time I Got Kicked Out of The Girl Scouts For Cursing.” Up front, I will tell you that this particular tale has been blown way out of proportion since the faithful day it occurred 19 years ago.

The facts are these: I was a terrible Girl Scout. I was more interested in eating the cookies than selling them.  I lacked the attention span one needed to listen to guest speakers wax poetic about The Golden Rule, I never had the motor skills necessary to complete the required crafts, and at the age of 9, I had the 4th grade equivalent of a trucker mouth. My language far surpassed the PG rating that most Girl Scouts considered appropriate.

I’m not sure if my troop leader ever spoke to my parents about my behavior, but I was certainly made to feel like I did not belong. I do know that around this same time my mother gave me a pretty serious talk about why certain words shouldn’t be repeated which was quickly followed by a statement along the lines of, “You don’t really enjoy being a Girl Scout anyway.” 

So with no love lost, I bid farewell to those cookie sellers and put away my sash for good. I’d like to say that this moment changed my life. That as a way of revenge I became the ultimate goody two shoes in order to stick it to the group that refused to appreciate my blue humor way of life. But that would be a lie and Girl Scouts aren’t supposed to lie, oh wait…

To be fair, I’m sure my troop leader and fellow Scouts were delightful people—I just wasn’t buying what they were selling. I was way more interested in rushing home to watch John Hughes movies than staying late at school to watch my mouth while trying to make a potholder for the umpteenth time. Whether it was my Troop Mother or my actual parents who made the final decision I don’t know, but either way the conclusion of the story remains the same: halfway through the school year I stopped going to Girl Scout meetings and no one invited me back the following year.

Alas, I never was able to clean up my act. Oh sure, I did heed my mother’s warning and stopped using the new vocabulary words that my sister brought home from the 7^th grade bus ride to school. But I never stopped trying to push the envelope. I spent many nights sitting on the edge of the bathtub in exile, having been sent away from the dinner table for brandishing an off-color remark. As a teenager I practiced my growing repertoire of curse words on my sister and a select group of fair-weather friends when the storm clouds came rolling in.

Although I did eventually manage to limit my use of those choice words, I never did lose my appreciation for them. Last week I sat my friends car laughing way too long over their use of a particular profanity. To this day my favorite word in the English language is a word so terrible that I have only said it a handful of times during my 28 years.

While I can understand why The Girl Scouts and I didn't see eye to eye, I regret nothing.  I was never going to be that prim and proper little girl who made polite conversation with their peers while attempting to earn her friendship merit badge. I was (and always will be) that slightly sloppy kid laughing at the wrong moment, not following directions, who knows the exact moment when it’s funny to say ‘fuck you.’ If anything my time as a Girl Scout, though brief it was; taught me that sometimes you can't please everyone. After all I'd rather be caught coloring outside the lines than not coloring at all.