When I was younger my mom took her creativity out on me during Halloween. She hated that I wanted a “pretty costume” and forced me to be something clever. Nothing like going through puberty – having a short tight perm, braces, being nearly 100 feet taller than every boy and about 100 pounds heavier – to be the perfect time to be something awkward. Imagine having hundreds of cotton balls glued to your underwear as part of a French Poodle costume or not being able to sit down at your school desk all day because you are a laundry basket. Kill me. Nowadays it is like I am making up for lost time and I am pretty much a whore-y something…nurse, cop, pumpkin...every year. My mom hates this and that I get my kids store bought costumes. But I don't mind that I am driving her crazy. I have to do something as some sort of retaliation for making me things like the stuff I mentioned or a dead Prom Queen or Pinocchio. Really Mom, really?! Of alllll the Disney characters....Ugh!! Maybe this year I'll go as a slutty Olaf (and yes - that does exist! Haha! Wheeeee!)
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