O Paul Revere, Where Art Thou?

The Red Coats have come and gone. We here at BYU could have been well served today by a Reverian warning of "THE ESTROGEN IS COMING! THE ESTROGEN IS COMING!"

Today and tomorrow comprise two of the most mayhem-filled days at BYU. Yes, it's Women's Conference. You think the Battle of Bunker Hill was bad? You obviously haven't seen the Battle for Mint Brownies at the Cougareat.

During the next two days, 14,000 women will flood campus for inspirational lectures, service opportunities, and spiritual nourishment. While all that's fine and dandy, it brings up one issue of minor concern: ME BEING INCONVENIENCED.

As a 20-something member of Generation Y, I can't help but feel a little put off by the fact that for two days, campus does not revolve around me--A STUDENT. That in order to buy a book for my class, I have to battle hoards of OUT-OF-TOWNERS who don't know their way around the BYU Bookstore. That I actually have to WAIT IN A LINE to use the little girls' room in the Wilk. That I am surrounded by OLD PEOPLE who probably voted for JOHN MCCAIN. Gross.

Today in the BYU Bookstore, I saw a woman handing out York Peppermint Patties. Feeling sad that my importance was being overshadowed by a forest of mom-pants and lanyards, I felt deserving of chocolately respite. However, as "May I please have a . . . " came out of my mouth, I saw that this woman was not handing out YPPs pro bono. Of course, there was a gimmick.

"Sure, you can have a peppermint patty! Here, take a card! Magic Chores: Help your kids do their chores refreshingly fast!"

Refreshingly fast? YPPs = refreshing mint chocolate? The connection between gimmick and sale eluded me, but I could sense what was coming next . . .

" . . . do you have children, miss?"

My options:
(1) Say, "Nope! Bye!"
(2) Violate the ninth commandment.

Naturally, I chose the lesser infraction.

"Nope!"

But as I read "Then why the heck are you taking my peppermint patties??" on her face, I felt my knees buckle (it actually turned out to be my integrity).

"I mean uh . . . not yet . . . I'm pregnant!"

"Awww, really? That's great! Well keep Magic Chores in mind for when your little one starts doing chores a few years down the road. It's helped my three-year old so much!"

"What's his name?" I asked out of genuine curiosity.

"Seth."

I found myself digging myself deeper into the lie, just for fun . . . "Oh, that's great. I need to keep an ear out for good baby names. My husband and I can't agree on anything!"

She smiled. "I know what you mean. Do you know what you're having yet?"

"Um . . . no . . . I'm only . . . 10 weeks along."

"Oh, wow! No wonder you're not showing."

(Phew!)

"I know you're not supposed to tell anybody until you hit 12 weeks, but I'm just so excited!"

"That's great! Is this your first?"

"Mmm hmm. Except I don't know whether to enroll in fall semester, I'm due in October. It would be hard having a baby in the middle of the semester."

"Do it. Just get it done. It's so much easier just to have it done. I'm just starting school right now with a three-year old, and it's rough."

Lies are fun until people start sharing personal information with you. Then you go from zero to scumbag in about .3 seconds. Luckily, right as the guilt started seeping in, another interested woman (who's eggs looked like they'd dried out LONG ago . . . ) stopped by to see what this girl was selling. My exit had arrived.

"Oh, well, great talking to you! I won't keep you any longer and let you talk to this nice woman here. Thanks for the peppermint patty!"

Proverbs 31:10 is a popular scripture read at Women's Conference. It states: "Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far beyond rubies."

I'm pretty sure that virtuous women don't lie in order to snag free chocolate.

Maybe next year I should go to Women's Conference.