(This is not my dog BTW)
I hate Halloween.
Well, maybe hate is too strong a word. But it's definitely not my favorite holiday.
When I was a kid it ranked right up there. Probably coming in third behind Christmas and Easter. Added to those two, Halloween completed the trifecta of candy holidays. As in "You, the child, will receive copious amounts of sugary treats on these three days of the year. The other 362 it's back to unsweetened cereals and whole grain bread."
I should state for the record that I grew up in a "healthy" household that was free of Twinkies, Moon Pies, Wonder Bread, Froot Loops or anything else you could put in the "fun junk food for lunch" category. Needless to say - no one ever wanted to trade with me for anything at lunch.
But I digress.
When did things change? When did my aversion to Halloween begin?
1995.
The year I met the other Moms.
The ones who sew.
Moms who would never be caught dead buying their kid a prefabricated Halloween costume. Who equated parental love with a willingness to drive oneself crazy making a perfect homemade Trick or Treating outfit extraordinaire.
I have many accomplishments - sewing is not one of them. The only sewing I do involves rectangles. Pillows, tote bags, valances that sort of thing. In a pinch I can produce some semblance of slipcovers for cushions. (You have to promise not to look at the back of those cushions - much of their fit is owed to the wonders of duct tape.)
Sewing things that actually have to fit on curves and around ankles - well, you can't duct tape the kid into the Halloween costume. I think someone calls the Department of Child Welfare on you.
Not only did these women make perfect costumes for their kids, they also made them for themselves. For about ten years we were part of a playgroup that had a big Halloween party where everyone had to wear a costume. And this brings me to the other reason I hate Halloween.
I hate dressing up in costumes of any kind. Hate it, hate it, hate it.
I gave it a good shot at first and made everyone bird outfits. (Though, coloring bedsheets with spray paint - not a good idea. Massive toxic fumes. Fortunately only on our costumes - the kids were in non toxic, modified yellow jammies.)
I may even have come up with a passable attempt the following year - perhaps something resembling a cat. But then something snapped. The party became, for me, a sort of game where I would see how little trouble I could take to dress up.
Non-costumes I can recall:
The Artist - I threw on a grubby "painter's" shirt and carried around a palette and paint brush.
The Farmer's Wife - possibly the same jeans, shirt and shoes from the previous year minus the painter's accessories. I put my hair in braids. I may have also carried a bucket.
The Poet - all black clothes, dark, dark lipstick, flat ironed hair. Accessory: about 20 fortune cookie-esque poems to be handed out upon request. (Or forced upon people - as it turned out.)
The Princess - one of my old Bridesmaid dresses. Remember when they tell you "of course you'll be able to wear this again" ? Well, I guess they were right after all.
The Harpist - really a cop out - I just wore what I usually wear to a gig.
And my personal favorite:
The Failure Of The Women's Movement - this costume also included my then five year old daughter. She went as a your standard princess while I put my hair in a ridiculous 50's updo, donned bright red lipstick, one of my mother's old June Cleaver dresses and a strand of fake pearls. (I was ahead of my time - "Mad Men" wasn't on the air yet.)
The idea for this theme presented itself a few days earlier at a Halloween/Birthday party whose guests were a gaggle of kindergarteners. I kid you not - EVERY girl was a fairy or a princess and EVERY boy was The Hulk or Spiderman.
How far we've come.
So - in closing, I'll try to wish you a Happy Halloween. I'll even go buy $50 worth of candy and pass it out to the neighborhood children, and you too, if you stop by.
Just don't ask me to dress up.
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