This is the time of year when I find myself to be one of the “outsiders” and I’m not talking about the movie. I’m talking about being the person who, sing it with me, is not like the others. Because I don’t like Halloween. The candy action is good, but the rest of it? Meh.
And let me tell you, there is nothing like being the only one of something…it’s a challenge. I don’t pretend to think that this one aspect of my life is really all that traumatic, because it isn’t. It’s nothing like how my dear friend and fellow comedian Betsy Semon Kauffman explains her experiences growing up to have been. (She’s awesome, isn’t she? I love when I get to take the stage with you Betsy!!!) But still, I sometimes feel like I have to whisper, or even just keep to myself, my lack of love for Halloween.
It’s not like I haven’t tried to love Halloween. Because I have. Many, many times. And yet, every Halloween is pretty much the same: me feeling like there is just some small part that I don’t get. Namely, the part that makes everybody gaga over the day.
I’m the kid who hated being scared, the kid who dressed up as a Rubik’s Cube when everybody else was a ghost, the kid who got all the boxes of raisins and Bit O’ Honeys. As a grown-up, I’m the one who gets the mean Trick-or-Treaters, the defective strobe lights and the bag of candy rejects with only three Skittles in each snack-sized bag.
So, it comes as no surprise to this poor Halloween reveler, that this year looks to be no exception. Mister Soandso wants to go to our first ever (yes, I am aware of just how sad this is) Halloween party. So he has sweet-talked me into going in costume, the whole bit.
Yesterday, part of my costume arrived via the USPS. Right away, I noticed that Houston is not the only one with a problem. First off, as I removed it from the (@#$%^*@) packaging, part of it fell off. See exhibit A.
Now, I fully realize that when it comes to wigs, you get what you pay for. It will come as no surprise to any of you that since Halloween ranks around picking up dog poop and gutter cleaning, there was no way I wanted to spend much money on transforming my appearance from middle-aged grey haired mother of three into something much more fun and exciting.
Apparently, I should have ponied up more cash. This wig is losing more hair than a Golden Retriever during a heat wave.
Every time I move the darn thing, more of its glory is lost. And let me tell you, it’s a commodity in short supply.
After assessing the quality workmanship of my lovely new ‘do, I spent quite a bit of time with my good friend, Google, trying to figure out a solution. And you know what? Of the seventeen kajillion sites I visited, the advice seems evenly split and diametrically opposed.
Well, isn’t that nifty?
It sure isn’t improving my “Halloween sucks!” attitude, let me tell you.
I’m pretty sure that this year will once again prove to me that my kids are evil when highly sugared, high school boys should never trick-or-treat in borrowed tutus, and you shouldn’t hope for even a minuscule amount of attractiveness at at costume party. At least not if this wig (Exhibit B) is part of your costume.