Chapter 2

The Saturday morning sun was already warm in Naples, Florida, with the parking lot at Publix bustling with cars and shoppers. It was just after 10 a.m., and the seagulls were circling above, competing with crows for scraps. Alex and I were in our snug Girl Scout uniforms, while Mom, who had a uniform of her own, opted for her usual blouse and skirt instead.

I’m not exactly sure what fabric a Girl Scout uniform is made of, but the pleated skirt and sleeveless tunic always seemed to shrink slightly whenever I started sweating in the Florida heat. The material is scratchy and resilient, designed for durability against rips and tears rather than comfort.

The saddle shoes I had on were a bit too tight, but I could still walk in them. I was certain Alex’s big bird feet had grown even more than mine had since we got them last year.

My brothers were comfortably dressed in T-shirts and jeans. This wasn’t our first time selling cookies here, and I knew the drill—most customers would pay with cash or through Google Pay on Mom’s phone.

Alex and I had our hands full, lugging the heavy table toward the setup area. Mom carried the cash box, and the boys strolled behind us empty-handed. In fairness, no one had asked my brothers to help, but the sight of their casual pace only added to my annoyance. We still had several more trips to make before everything was in place.

“Okay, you three slits, good luck selling your Girl Scout cookies,” Darrin was obviously testing my mom by pushing her buttons to see if she kept her promise that she wouldn’t lose her temper if he called her a slit. I was used to my brothers calling me much worse at home – so slit really wasn’t that big of a deal to me.

However, it was kind of funny watching my Mom react awkwardly to my brothers being so bold.

I could tell that Mom wanted to say something to him—maybe passive-aggressively threaten him or say she’d had a change of heart. I liked that look on her face when she realized her son was talking down to her. It happened to me all the time when my little brothers talked down to me. For some reason, I was thrilled to be called a slit if my mom was included.

I guess it was just the ‘turn the tables’ nature of how she had to accept it that made it seem funny to me.

“What are you smiling about, Hailey?” my mom glowered at me—unable to fire off a response at Darrin.

“I’m just smiling because I’m a dumb bimbo and a slit with tits.”

“With no tits,” Mom half-smiled. I could see she wasn’t really mad at me, and she was more or less commiserating with me.

I glanced at Alex; we could often communicate wordlessly through a look. I think she realized our Mom was bristling about having been spoken down to by our brothers. Mom frequently spoke about the expectations for females in society, and I’ve seen her let men talk down to her many times in the past. I’ve never seen my brothers test her like that before, though. Things seemed different for them now that they were in high school, even though the school year had just begun.

Respect for Others

Excerpt from the Eight Traditional Core Pillars of the Girl Scouts:

The Founder of the Girl Scouts shown here with one of her favorite live-in Scouts:

Girl Scouts are also encouraged to embrace the philosophy of the founder of the Traditional Girl Scouts, Juliette “Daisy” Low. The philosophy of “Don’t like it? Tough Titty, Too bad, so sad,” recognizing that discomfort and challenges are integral to growth and discipline and that the place of women in the hierarchy is a foundation upon which harmony can be achieved and strife can be avoided by not allowing women to engage in delusions of equality to men, female empowerment, or feminism that can only lead to strife when genetic and historical evidence has determined that the natural order is preserved when everyone accepts their role.

Girl Scouts must learn to accept and encourage the behaviors and values of the Girl Scouts without rebellion, opposition and, anger, or jealousy about privileges that were never intended for them. Appropriate ways to manage these feelings can be found through journaling their daily observations and activities, even if their life is relatively mundane and of little interest to others.

SELLING OUR COOKIES

We set up our table at the grocery store, arranging the supplies in a way that would hopefully attract attention. Mom directed us where to put the Girl Scout banners, and my brothers hung around for a few minutes to watch before getting bored.

“Okay, boys, I won’t make you hang out with us the entire time, but thank you for coming with me today! You can go explore the shopping plaza, and I’ll text you in a few hours to let you know when we’re wrapping up. Feel free to check in with us anytime! Sound good?”

My brothers nodded, clearly eager to escape the tedium. “Sounds good, Mom,” Luke said, already turning toward the pizza place down the way. Darrin gave us a lazy wave. “Good luck selling your cookies, slits!” he called back, grinning as he walked off.

As Alex fastened a Girl Scout flag to the table, she glanced toward Mom, trying not to expose her panties by bending at the waist in a short skirt. Her discomfort reminded me that I didn’t even wear panties today. I immediately stood up straight and pulled my skirt hem down a bit. I could feel the warm arm on the bottom of my butt cheeks.

My Girl Scout skirt rode up in the back, and I had to adjust it every few minutes, or it would reveal more and more of my butt crack.

We were already getting attention from mostly older men ogling us. “Mom,” Alex said, her voice low but curious, “I know why my brothers tease me, but you were clearly uncomfortable being called a slit. Why did you volunteer to let them call you that if you don’t have to?”

“The boys are getting older and in high school now. There are things women just have to accept, and one is that guys are going to stare at us,” she looked up and smiled politely at a man who was gawking at the three of us. She stopped responding to my sister and apologized politely for the delay. She told him we’d be set up soon and offered to sell him some cookies right now if he couldn’t wait.

“I was staring at your asses! I don’t want to buy a lot of cookies from you! You are all too old to be Girl Scouts, especially the blonde. You aren’t fooling anyone!”

It wasn’t uncommon for a man to be crude like that to women in public, and Mom didn’t seem offended at all by the comment about her age. She didn’t correct him and tell him she is a Troop Leader. She didn’t explain that Girl Scouts are just like Boy Scouts in that the Program runs through High School. Most people drop out by the time they go to high school, but our Senior Troop (Ranks 4-7) had 18 girls in it.

She smiled at him and thanked him politely. “Take a good long look then, Sir. Look all you want – we’ll be here setting up.”

Mom didn’t say anything passive-aggressive or pissy about being “sorry she was too old for him.” She simply accepted the taunt. It doesn’t mean she liked it or wasn’t insulted or embarrassed. It meant that my mom believed men should be able to make comments like that about our looks without repercussion – as simple as that.

My mom was almost always chipper and polite to men in general and even other women most of the time. She could be strict with us and lose her patience, but that was most mothers, I assume.

Once he walked out of earshot, she continued her conversation with Alex. “If I’m not going to raise my voice and be a bitch to a total stranger for calling me a name, what should I do if your brothers call me a slit? I don’t care about that man, and I love your brothers. Why should I hold them to a different standard?”

“I guess not,” Alex replied. She had forgotten she was wearing a short skirt and was bending over at the waist. I could see her panties peeping out of the back of her skirt. I didn’t interrupt to warn her because my mom was talking.

“Should I say that my pussy is different and special, and they’ll hurt my feelings if they remind me that I am not a man? I saw you both grin like your dad just gave you an allowance and bought you a new cell phone on top of it when they called me a slit in the parking lot. Don’t deny it!”

We couldn’t help it—we grinned again. My sister stood up, straightened the back of her skirt, and continued setting up the cookies.

“We actually spoil you girls a bit. You think you have it so rough because you get teased a little and have to do housework. There are a lot of girls who wish they had their own bedroom to share with only one other sister and all the freedoms we give you. If the worst thing that ever happens to you is someone calling you a rude name, then you’ve had a good life, I’d say.”

We nodded and agreed with her demurely. She was right, of course.

“Alright, girls, enough showing off and wiggling your fat butts so that men can check out your cute little apple bottoms; we’ve got cookies to sell and work to do.” Mom implied my sister, and I had been showing off on purpose for attention. “We’ve got a few more trips to make!” She kept the cash box close at hand, and we walked back to the car.

Alex decided to ask another question. “Mom, you said we have it so good. Are there girls who actually get allowances?”

Mom gave a low laugh as if the thought of it amused her. “Probably rich little bitches who are spoiled rotten. Girls don’t need allowances any more than they need modesty. We love you too much to spoil you.”

I raised an eyebrow because the way my mom explained it sounded like a double standard. I had never really questioned why I didn’t get an allowance before. It was just always that way. “But aren’t you spoiling the boys rotten by giving THEM an allowance? They get phones AND an allowance.”

Mom turned to face us as we walked, eyes narrowed with a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

“This is a question probably best asked of your father because all things considered, I’d love to have an allowance myself. I’ve never had one before I was married, and that didn’t change after I married your father. Allowances for boys are meant to help boys pursue their goals—save up for tools, hobbies, or whatever they decide to put their minds to. The money would be spent anyway on those things. This just makes it so that your brothers don’t have to keep asking your father and have more choices on when to spend it and on what.”

I wanted to point out that we could do the same thing, but my Mom wasn’t finished speaking, and I didn’t want to interrupt.

“You girls already have your needs covered, and if you want anything extra, you just have to ask. If your father thinks you actually need it, then he’ll tell me to buy it for you. I’ll be honest—girls just aren’t trusted to have the good sense to know what to do with their money. You’d blow it on something frivolous like makeup, wouldn’t you?”

Alex shot her a defiant look. “So, what if I did? The allowance would be my money and my choice to make, wouldn’t it?”

Mom chuckled again. “I’m starting to wonder if you’ve been listening to progressive television,” she teased. She knew full well we didn’t watch much television, and we certainly didn’t get to pick the programs the family watched. “It’s not YOUR money; you didn’t earn it. Your father did. It’s his choice to give us an allowance, but he doesn’t. You still get money spent on you. You just have to do an extra verification step—why you really need it. If it’s a want, you probably won’t get it, Alex. Let’s be honest, if we had money, wouldn’t we buy some Haagen-Dazs right now?”

Alex gave a dramatic sigh, “Would it be so bad if we could have ice cream today? It’s hot, and we’ve got a lot of work to do. We could have it as a reward?” she suggested sweetly.

“Alex, where is this coming from all of a sudden? Now, you are acting like a self-indulgent little princess who wants Ice Cream before you will do what you are supposed to do?” Mom was more than a little worried about the question. “You’ve already had your reward—it’s called a roof over your head, food in your belly, and the clothes on your back. You don’t get rewards for doing what’s expected of you.”

I wondered the same thing. My sister’s questions might have been as a result of my brothers deciding to push their luck with mom’s goodwill toward being called a slit. It seemed like my little sister may have had these questions before today and she just never asked them. She had hung around with some neighbor girls over the summer, and they may have put these thoughts in her head as well.

“I am not trying to be a brat, Mom!” Alex said as she carried the heavy boxes of cookies pressed to her chest, and we walked through the busy parking lot. “it’s just that today, you said the boys are getting older, so they get to do a little more. They have roofs over their heads and food in their bellies and all that – so why do THEY need a reward?”

“Look,” Mom started, her tone measured but direct, “I asked the same questions when I was your age, and I’ll tell you what my mom told me. You might hate it, and you might disagree, you can get angry or cry like a bitch, you can curse the fates, you can wish on every star at night, but boys and girls are born different and that’s nature.”

“I am not trying to deny nature, Mom. I am just wondering why boys spending the money how they want, is different for girls.”

“I don’t know where this is coming from; it should be fairly obvious that men are the ones who govern and run things. There are no women principals, presidents, or CEOs, just like there are no male mothers or maids. It’s the natural order of things. Men have invented every technology because they are better at engineering and science. That’s not a coincidence, Alex.”

“We don’t get taught the advanced math or science, Mom,” I pointed out.

“Not you, too? Suddenly, the women’s lib has invaded the Girl Scouts?” Mom laughed and held up her hands like she was surrendering. “You can barely pass the basic math and science classes you are in. How would you do in a Boy’s math or science class?”

Mom had a good point. I withdrew my objection.

“Your father handles making the money. He sends me to the grocery store to buy the food. We each have our talents and contribute to the house according to our ability to contribute. He handles the big picture stuff, and I am a detail person,” Mom’s explanation made a lot of sense. I think Alex could see that as well. She wasn’t arguing in the first place; she had only been asking questions.

“You don’t NEED money. You WANT money because you like to want things, Alex. Just like you don’t need modesty—if someone sees your boobs or butt or calls you a twat—it’s because you are a twat. You don’t need ice cream; you’ll survive without it. Boys get indulged now and then because they’re ambitious, and they get better toys than us. It’s fair, though, because it’s the same for all girls—with the exception of a couple of spoiled brats who bitched and got their way.”

“I am sorry for asking, Mom. That makes sense,” Alex apologized.

“No need to apologize for asking a question if you don’t know the answer. The dumbest girls are the ones who don’t even do that much. I’m flattered you both asked me and not your father. I think he may have put it a little more bluntly.”

“Yeah, blunt like a paddle on a butt,” I quipped.

“Your father is not an unreasonable man, and I know you are being facetious, but he would never spank you for asking a question respectfully if you really don’t know the answer. Your brothers are a year younger than you, and they are starting to ask more questions, too. Boys mature faster than we do, so it’s only natural you’d have things you’re still figuring out.”

“I appreciate it, Mom,” Alex expressed gratitude.

Mom gave a dry laugh and added, “You should learn to appreciate the privileges that YOU do get—and find ways to take pleasure in simple things. We do get ice cream sometimes. We just don’t get to open the ice box and take it out whenever we want. We’d be fat as hell if we did that.”

“We have to get straight A’s for an entire year to get Ice Cream!” Alex pointed out.

“Positive reinforcement isn’t about creating a bunch of spoiled brats who expect a cookie every time they do their job. It’s about recognizing when someone really earns it—when they’ve made themselves an example for others to follow. The rewards are small because they’re not the point. The point is doing what’s expected, knowing your place, and maybe getting a nod for going the extra mile,” My Mom added.

I hadn’t thought about it like that – it actually did make sense. My sister seemed to agree with the logic of the differences between men and women as well. Mom stayed back at the booth while my sister and I grabbed the remaining boxes from the car.

“Too much ice cream is too much of a good thing,” Mom slapped her flat stomach and turned to Alex with a teasing grin. “And you definitely don’t need any more fat on that big old bubble butt, Alex.”

Positive Reinforcement
Excerpted from the Girl Scout Disciplinary Plan:

---Juliette “Daisy” Low

Examples of Rewards:

· A single cookie or dessert item.

· Two scoops of ice cream during a troop gathering.

· Two hours of recreational time, such as television or games.

· Permission to wear a specific item of clothing for a limited time, such as a modest dress or comfortable shoes, as a reward for exceptional behavior.

· Inclusion of their photo on a designated “Wall of Recognition” within the troop’s meeting area.

· Removal of their photo from a designated “Wall of Shame” within the troop’s meeting area.

Positive reinforcement may be granted when a Girl Scout demonstrates exceptional behavior or performance in one or more of the following areas:

· Sales Excellence: Surpassing assigned cookie sale quotas within the specified timeframe.

· Academic Achievement: Maintaining straight A’s in approved female educational courses, as recognized by the Scout Leader for the entire Academic Year.

· Attendance and Conduct: Achieving perfect attendance and exemplary behavior at all troop meetings and activities and school for the entire Academic Year.

· Leadership and Teamwork: Modeling appropriate Girl Scout behavior, teamwork, and skills that contribute meaningfully to the troop’s success.

· Recognition by Authority Figures: Receiving a positive endorsement from Scout Leaders or Patrol Leaders for outstanding actions or contributions.

· Truthful and Constructive Reporting: Appropriately and truthfully reporting the misbehavior of other Girl Scouts, provided the confession is supported by evidence and serves the greater good of troop discipline. Retaliatory confessions are not encouraged, even if they are truthful.

Extending Discipline Beyond Troop Activities

FINISHING UNPACKING OUR LOAD

On the final trip back to the car, Alex walked alongside me, her arms full of cookie boxes. She let out a soft sigh, glancing sideways at me. “Sorry about that,” she said.

I blinked at her, confused. “Sorry about what?”

“For opening my big mouth today.” She hesitated, her eyes shifting to the ground before continuing. “I don’t know why I asked those questions. Obviously, if we were supposed to have ice cream anytime that we wanted, we would.”

“Well, even our brothers would probably get told no if they tried that,” I replied. I adjusted the box in my hands, feeling its weight against my chest. “Besides, with the way they eat, they’d give themselves stomachaches.”

Alex snorted a laugh. “That’s probably why they don’t let us have chocolate ice cream. If we did, I’d probably be fatter than I am now.”

I glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not fat. You’re just chubby.”

My sister really wasn’t fat at all – but she definitely thought she was.

“Oh, please!” Alex shot back, rolling her eyes. “You sit on my lap in the car, and I’m your little sister. Let’s face it—I’m just a big-butt, big-tit cow monster.”

“‘Big-butt, big-tit cow monster?’” I teased, letting the words linger with a laugh. “Don’t let Luke and Darrin hear you say that. They’d slap it on a t-shirt and make you wear it.”

Alex rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a slight smirk. “Like you wouldn’t laugh yourself silly if they actually did.”

As we loaded the last of the boxes from the car and headed back toward the booth, the conversation didn’t drop there. “Do you really think they’d make us wear shirts with “Slits with Tits” on them, though?” Alex asked.

She wasn’t freaking out about it, but I could tell she knew it was a real possibility for us at school. My brothers were just starting high school this year – there was no telling what might happen.

“You know Luke and Darrin—always talking big, but they wouldn’t make us wear slit shirts to school? That girl Becky Johnson is a laughing stock! I half expect to see her wear a dunce cap to school one day with bells around her neck,” My sister joked. I couldn’t imagine something that absurd even at our school.

“Mom is pretty serious that she’d make us wear it if they bought the shirts – just out of gratitude -whether we were really grateful or not. Dad doesn’t get into the details of how things work,” I admitted that I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to freak out about something outside of my control. “A t-shirt isn’t as bad as taking my panties, anyway,” I adjusted my skirt in the back again to pull the hem down.

As we carried all the boxes of cookies back to the table, I noticed a tall, handsome guy on the sidewalk, his athletic frame standing out even from a distance. He moved with that casual confidence that made you want to look twice. Alex straightened up immediately, smoothing her hair and tugging at her shirt. “Do you think that guy is into big-titty cow monsters?” she whispered with a wicked grin. “Because I could really use some cock right about now.”

We weren’t scared virgins by any stretch of the imagination. We were forbidden from masturbating at home, but we did it pretty much every night in our room or the bathroom. We were also into guys, and sometimes other girls – and this guy was hot enough I’d probably have shared him with my sister if he could handle it.

I snorted, barely able to keep a straight face. “Why not go ask him? Flash a smile, bat your lashes—you might be his type.”

Alex nudged me with her elbow, her voice low but playful. “You know I would, but what’s the point? Even if I got his attention, I don’t have a phone to give him my number. What am I supposed to do, hand him a Girl Scout cookie and hope for the best?”

“I suppose you could hope Mom gives us a break and see if he wants the cookie between your legs and not the one in the box?” I teased playfully.

“You whore!” she gave me a playful grin.

“Whores charge for sex, and I’ve got no money at all,” I patted my skirt – it didn’t even have pockets. The designers of Girl Scout Uniforms assumed we’d store everything in our tunics.

She sighed dramatically, her cheeks pink. “It’s been a while since I have had a good fucking. Do you think if we ask Mom instead of Haagen Daas, she’d let us chat this guy up? I could give him our address and ask him to pick me up?”

“You could tell him to come by our window around 10 pm and sneak out?” I mused. The idea of sneaking out was a frequent fantasy of ours, but neither of us had ever dared.

We didn’t act upon our fantasy, but we definitely thought about it. Mom was livid that we took so long to bring back the boxes and threatened to spank us right there in front of Publix. I could imagine that cute boy walking up while our butts were getting tanned -we’d look like dumb bratty girls with our skirts pulled down and rosy-red cheeks. We quickly apologized and set up to make our first sale.

Alex surprised me by asking Mom another question. She wanted to know if we could ever have phones of our own. “There is a box of old phones at the house that you guys didn’t turn in when you upgraded. Even one of those would be nice,” she pleaded.