It's supposed to be a fun holiday. I get that. You're supposed to get creative with it. I know that. But I just can't. I am just really bad at doing Halloween.
Last year was the first year I even bought a bag of candy so I could stay home and pass it out to the kiddos. Of course, I totally underestimated the number of costumed munchkins who'd show up at my door. I had to shut the lights out early and call it a night.
I don't even remember the last time I carved a pumpkin. The gunk and seeds on the inside of pumpkins completely gross me out. It is such a mess!
To further prove to you my lack of Halloween celebration, I can not find a single Halloween type photo to add to this post for you. Not even one.
I wasn't always terrible at celebrating Halloween. There was one of our first Halloweens when Mama made my twin sister and I matching chocolate chip cookie sandwich boards, so our older brother could dress as the Cookie Monster and pull us around in a red wagon.
But then there was the year that Mama made us into Punk Rockers. She claims that's what we wanted to be. But I have a hard time believing a 3-year-old in the mid-80's was begging her mama to be a Punk Rocker for Halloween.
Did I mention Mama was a DJ at the local radio? So I'm pretty sure it went down like this:
Mama: "Hey girlies! Do you want to be Punk Rockers for Halloween?"
Twin Sister and Me: (Look at each other then at Mama) "What's a Punk Rocker, Mama?"
Mama: "Someone who sings songs. It'll be fun!"
Twins: "OK, Mama. We'll be Punk Rockers."
It was probably fun for Mama. She dyed our hair purple and painted our faces. And we took one look at each other and started screaming bloody murder. Mama did such a good job that Halloween that we scared ourselves! I think that was the year our brother won the costume contest for his vampire costume. Mama painted his face too. Only he didn't spend the rest of the night in tears.
Of course what did she expect of the girls who cried when they got their hand stamped at their uncle's high school basketball game. Cried so hard that Grandma had to take them both home.
|The worst punk rocker crying even before her hair gets teased and dyed.|
We stuck to much tamer costumes after that. Little Red Riding Hood. Rainbow Bright. Then a few years later, Mama and Daddy decided we weren't going to "celebrate" Halloween any more. It was against our religion or something. We didn't want to be devil worshipers.
So we got to leave school early and watch movies in the basement while all the other kids dressed up in costumes and celebrated the devil with candy at school and knocking on stranger's doors. Because nothing says evil like strangers handing out chocolate to children.
By the time we were in junior high and high school, my parents didn't feel as strongly as they once did about the day. So we stayed in school and dressed up like "old ladies" in long dresses and wigs. Apparently Halloween wasn't devil worship unless you dressed up like scary monsters.
Last weekend, I finally met someone else with the same handicap that I have when it comes to Halloween. She used to hide in the basement with her family on October 31, too. It's kind of a relief as an adult knowing I'm not the only one who faces this hurdle every year. But that doesn't solve the problem of learning how to dress up for a holiday you spent the better half of your life avoiding.
I will be running a road race this weekend where costumes are encouraged. I'll let you know how it goes. And I'll try to get a picture or two. In the meantime, I'm agonizing over what I'm going to wear. No face paint or hair dye, please!