I don’t like Halloween. For context, I’m not some Bible thumper type person or anything like that. As a child, I didn’t (and still don’t) like a lot of different candies or sweets in general. If I wanted something sweet, I would drink a soda and hate myself as the carbonation destroyed my stomach. The real reason, though, that I didn’t like Halloween was the costumes. I do love cosplay and costumes in general, but when you’re a 5’6″ fifth-grader, your costume options in Spirit Halloween are very different.
I’m not trying to say my life as a tall person is a struggle because it’s not. Despite what a terrible Netflix movie tries to say, it’s really fine. I’m just saying that I had an awkward year where, as a fifth-grader, the only costumes I could wear were in the same aisle as the sexy bumblebee. I had to sort through all the sexy adult costumes until finally — finally — I got something age-appropriate, but it was always something lame like Athena (not to offend anyone into that, but my younger self was not into Percy Jackson). Also, by this point in adolescence, my friends and I were allowed to go alone to trick or treat where I was often mistaken for a chaperone, and I got less candy. I’m not mad, just would’ve preferred fewer hostile looks from Karens.
It didn’t get better in high school because my school encouraged everyone to dress up for Halloween. I had, by this point in my Halloween career, forgotten about the Spirit Halloween and all its disappointment, and I decided to make my own costume. I found though, that I had low levels of motivation and almost no will to care. Before I decided to go into school again with no costume, my mom had an idea. She had been looking on the internet and found an idea for a pun costume. The costume was just a bunch of sponges stuck onto a shirt. Don’t know what I am? Well, neither did anyone else. I got stares from a slightly “too into Halloween” upperclassmen girl who snarled in front of her friends, “what are you supposed to be, SpongeBob?”
I looked at her nonplussed and said, “no I’m self-absorbed.” They were stunned silent as I walked away.
I went into my classroom not really caring that much, but all of a sudden, I hear footsteps running outside the door. The girl is gasping for air at the doorway as I turn around. “What did you say?” she asked.
“What?” I replied, slightly scared now.
“You’re self-absorbed,” she said, starting to laugh. “That’s the best costume ever.” She walked off laughing and rejoined her friends.
She was being genuine; everyone loved the costume. In the following years, I continued my trend by being a dust bunny, a “howl” monitor, a formal apology, and a “foxy” mama.
I feel at the end of this story you’re expecting me to say my heart grew three sizes that day, as if I’m the Grinch Who Stole Halloween, but I still don’t care about Halloween that much. It did make me realize though, that being creative with your costume options does pay off. n the end, it felt nice getting compliments. So, I encourage everyone to compliment peoples’ costumes, especially when you see the extra effort. From a person who doesn’t have that much of it, try to spread a little more Halloween cheer this year. I know that it can still mean a lot.