My costume should have been a large bubble...
I have a love-hate relationship with Halloween. I love it because all that food and candy that is bad for you is mini sized, which means that I can indulge and not feel bad. I hate it because I really just don't like dressing up. I hate having to think of costume ideas, and I inevitably leave it to the last minute. I don't know if this is a "me getting older" type deal, or whether I am actually just over Halloween.
I remember being so excited for Halloween when I was little(r). My grandma would always make me some kind of kick ass costume (Pocahontas, a Puppy, Snow White, etc) and I would love going door to door with my dad, and my friends when I was older. I remember running around the neighbourhood like little hooligans, trying to see how much sugary goodness we could stuff into our pillowcases, and how much we could actually ingest before we made it home, where our parents would then have to deal with our monstrous sugar highs. I remember that my dad, would look over my candy with his critical eye for what seemed like forever, before I was given the go ahead to eat any of it (seriously, I blame my childhood for my germophobic tendencies and allergies). But as the years went on, and I got older, and probably more cynical, I just don't have that same love for Halloween.
Every year my friends and I have something we call Chadoween. It's basically a huge Halloween/Birthday party for my good friend Chad. Chadoween usually includes a fairly sizable house party, with a DJ, dancefloor, lightshow and fog machine. It also has all of my favourite people in one place getting spectacularly messy, and doing silly things, that they don't remember, which I then, oh so kindly, remind them about. Usually people stuff themselves into costumes made for 3 year olds, or come as group of people (like team Tom Cruise). It's always a good time. Normally, I have a costume figured out at least a week beforehand, but this year, I dropped the ball. I had no idea what I was going to do, and it doesn't help that I was extremely lazy and apathetic about the whole dressing up thing. I thought of a really awesome costume way last minute that I could have never pulled off, so I shelved it for next year, and went as a Mob Wife instead. It's no secret that I have an intense love for really bad reality television. Mob Wives is one of my new favourites. It's like The Real Housewives of New Jersey, meets the Jersey Shore, except there is more fur, prison, death and mobsters. Seriously, it's amazing, and the cat fights are UNREAL! I literally came up with my costume at 8pm last night. I think it was a) the least amount of effort I have ever put into a Halloween costume, and b) the most expensive Halloween costume I have ever worn, with out having spent a dime. All it took was a fur coat. A vintage white fox fur coat to be more specific. It was amazing, and generously loaned to me. I was so excited because I thought it was a genius plan! I looked cute, and was wearing thousands of dollar worth of fur (I'm just glad I didn't run into any nutjobs from PETA last night...pretty sure I would have had red paint all over me if I had), and I put in zero effort! But, I made one crucial mistake last night, in that, upon assuming my Mob Wife alter ego, I figured I was invincible...kind of like if I actually had the full force of the mob behind me. I forgot about all the dangers that I faced...until I realized that I was allergic to my genius costume.
I am the only person I know who would choose a costume, think it's awesome, and then be allergic to it. I don't know why I thought that my allergies would be okay, considering contact with most animals leaves me too serious for numbers sick. I figured that since said animals were dead and had been made into a lovely coat, I would be good to go. Not the case (which just goes to show you how much I know about real life). I mean, the thought that I might be allergic to the coat crossed my mind as I was driving with my friend to the party. We even discussed it because she was wearing my grandmothers mink fur coat, and we thought we were ballin' (we actually had some serious beats happening and were garnering really funny looks from other cars). But, I put those thoughts out of my mind, determined to have a good Chadoween. It wasn't until I started sneezing like a madwoman, and until a friend pointed out the large red welty hives on my arms that I realized I was, in fact, allergic to my Halloween costume. Next came the inability to breathe properly. That was awesome. My costume left me uncomfortable and wheezy. So what did I do? Instead of taking off the coat like a normal person, I left it on and went dancing instead. I was dedicated to my character, don't judge me!
This whole incident just adds to the long list of reasons as to why I don't really like Halloween. I'll take Christmas any day. It also has me reconsidering my takeover of Russia, as in my mind, there are a lot of fur coats in Russia.